Whumped
by Eideann
Summary: The title says it all. Set in Season 3, after Forever and a Day and prior to Shades of Gray.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Daniel walked down the alley between the little bookshop on 10th and the all-night gym that was beside it, a bag of books weighty in his hand. The air was chill and the clear sky of the afternoon had been replaced by cloud cover that muffled the moon and hid the stars completely. He hadn't realized how absorbed he'd become in his research. Tom had let him stay hours after closing today without a word. He must have been working late himself, or he'd have kicked Daniel out with all the browsers at seven. Still, a couple of these references could prove valuable.

A footstep sounded behind him in the alley, and he turned his head to look behind him. It was a guy in dark blue sweats, a gym bag over his shoulder. Some of the folks from the gym used Tom's parking lot, especially after hours. They weren't supposed to, but parking could be tough. Daniel turned back without paying much attention.

Six books put a bit of a dent in the budget, especially when one of them was four hundred dollars. Tom got good stuff, though. He knew what he had, so he sold it for what it was worth. However, it did mean Daniel could count on his stuff being what he said it was.

He didn't get any warning signals till he was almost to the parking lot end of the alley. Suddenly, the light Tom kept burning back there went out. For a moment, Daniel didn't think anything of it, just reached into his pocket for his key light. Then he heard the footsteps behind him speed up, and a shadow that was blacker than the darkness loomed up in front of him.

Dropping the bag of books, he pulled his keys out of his pocket, shifting them in his clenched fist to make it a spiked rather than blunt object. He sensed rather than saw a blow coming towards him from the figure in front and ducked sideways, lessening the impact of the club on his head to a graze. He slammed his fist forward into the attacker's gut and was rewarded by an outrush of air.

A heavy blow smashed into his lower back, sending him to his knees. The fight became more confused after that, but he didn't stop struggling until something hit him in the back of the head. His skull exploded with pain and he felt himself pitch forward, but was unconscious before he landed.

* * *

Jack let the phone ring until the answering machine picked up. Daniel's voice came over the earpiece, confident and cheery. "You've reached Daniel Jackson. Please leave a message after the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Daniel? You there? Pick up." He waited a couple of seconds, then hung up the phone.

"This isn't like him," Carter said.

Jack blinked. "Are you saying that Daniel's never late, Carter?" he asked, and she got one of those exasperated grimaces.

"No, sir, I'm saying he was really excited about this mission. And this isn't late, this is . . ." She shook her head. "This is way worse than late. He's not even on base."

"Major Carter is correct," Teal'c said.

Jack bit his lip. He agreed, but he didn't want to admit it. He picked up the phone and dialed Daniel's cell phone, again.

Hammond came out of his office into the conference room. "There's nothing from the highway patrol. No car accidents."

Jack heard what the general said, but his attention was diverted abruptly when the cell phone picked up, but this time he didn't get voice mail. He got the sound of a room with people in it, but no one spoke into the phone. "Daniel? Daniel, are you there?"

A deep male voice he didn't recognize spoke. "Who are you?"

Jack's gut clenched. "Who are you?" he demanded. That got everyone's attention.

"I asked you first."

"What, are you in kindergarten?" Jack demanded. "Who are you and why are you answering Daniel's phone?"

Before the other man got a chance to respond, Hammond took the phone from him. "This is Brigadier General George Hammond of the United States Air Force. Who is this and where is Dr. Daniel Jackson?" The general's face was tight and angry as he spoke, and Jack wished the damned phone was broadcasting the answer. They all waited impatiently while Hammond listened. The general's eyes widened. "What? Where?" He shook his head. "No, not under any circumstances." He paused for a moment. "No, in fact the reason we were calling is that we have no idea where Dr. Jackson is. He's four hours late for work, and more than an hour late for a meeting he would not have missed." Jack's anxiety notched up higher as Hammond spoke. "No, I don't know of any reason why he'd be in that part of town."

"General?" Jack said.

"I'm going to send the man's supervising officer to meet with you immediately," Hammond said. "In the meantime, I would like to officially report Dr. Daniel Jackson missing." It was like a punch in the gut. Jack glanced over at Carter and Teal'c who looked as stunned as he felt. "Can you hold on for a moment?" He lowered the phone. "O'Neill, go to the police station at Lexington and Park. Dr. Jackson's cellular phone was taken off a drug dealer who was arrested earlier today."

_Shit!_ Jack started out of the room instantly.

Behind him, Carter started speaking. "Sir, request permission to accompany –"

"Granted, major. Teal'c, I'm afraid you'll have to stay here." That was the last Jack heard as he headed down the stairs to the control room and out to the elevator. Carter caught up with him before he got to the doors.

"Should we change, sir?" Carter asked.

"Undress blues," Jack said shortly. "Fifteen minutes."

"Yes sir," she replied, and true to her word, she met him by the elevator in fifteen minutes, neat and unruffled. They went to the surface together and got into his truck. Carter was a silent mass of tension all the way to the police station. They didn't either of them have much to say. What could they say?

They were walking in the front door of the station before Jack realized that he didn't know who to ask for. They were hard to miss in their uniforms, though, and an officer came towards them as soon as they got inside. Jack tucked his hat under his arm as the young man approached.

"I'm Sgt. Barnes," he said. "Lt. Axner is expecting you. Please follow me."

Jack nodded. They walked through the halls, perps and cops alike looking curiously at them as they made their way to an upper office. Probably they didn't get too many Air Force officers in here. Lt. Axner was a tall, skinny guy with a knobbly adam's apple and thinning red hair.

"You must be Colonel O'Neill," he said, and Jack recognized his voice instantly.

"I must be. What the hell is going on here?"

"Please sit down. I have some questions I need to ask before we talk any further." Jack sat irritably, and Carter followed his lead. "What exactly is your relationship to Dr. Jackson?"

"We're co-workers at Cheyenne Mountain. Daniel is a civilian contractor." Lt Axner raised an eyebrow. Jack grimaced. "And we're his friends," he added ungraciously.

"What is the nature of his work?"

"Top secret," Jack said. "If I didn't work with him, I wouldn't know, but I can tell you that he has PhDs in anthropology, archeology and linguistics."

"I see," Axner said, making a note. "Have you ever heard of Alan Jones?" They both shook their heads. "Mark Rodriguez?"

"Nope. Who are they?"

"Actually, I've heard of that second guy," Carter said. "He's a drug dealer." Jack stared intently at her. "A suspected drug dealer," she amended. "It was in the papers. I read about him a couple of weeks ago." She paused thoughtfully, and Axner waited to see if she had anything else to say. "There was something in a letter to the editor about him working for a man name Albert Cordova."

"Albert Cordova is the man we found the phone on," Axner said, gazing suspiciously at Carter.

"That's all I know, really," she said. "And I only read about it in the paper. I'm sure Daniel doesn't know them either."

"Why are you so certain?" Axner asked.

"Because if Daniel knew anything about drug dealers, he'd turn them in without a second thought," Jack said. Axner's brows went up, and Jack wondered suddenly if that was what had happened. Daniel had seen something and . . .

"Do you know of any reason for him to have been near the Wal-Mart on the east side of town?"

Jack shook his head. "None," he replied. "Carter?"

She blinked thoughtfully. "He was looking for some reference books, I think, but I can't think of any bookstores near there."

"There's a Barnes & Noble not far away."

Jack made a scornful sound. "Not likely."

"Daniel's not a real big retail shopper," she said. "And the kind of expertise he has wouldn't lead him to look for books at Barnes & Noble."

"So . . . college bookstores?"

"Maybe," Jack said. "More like some of the fancier used bookstores."

"Antiquarian bookstores," Carter said with emphasis. "Rare bookstores. Not necessarily fancy. Some of them are pretty hole-in-the wall."

Axner got an odd look on his face. He picked up his phone. "Bring me the file on the John Doe from last night," he said.

Jack felt his throat seize up, but Carter leaned forward. "John Doe?" she repeated. "Not John Doe as in . . . as in dead?"

Axner shook his head. "No, this man is in the hospital, but there's no guarantee it's even your friend. I just –" A uniformed cop came in with the file and handed it off. Axner flipped it open as the other cop left. "I thought so. This guy was found in the parking lot behind Bartoli's Books in downtown. Six foot, short brown hair, blue eyes, glasses."

Carter made an odd squeaking sound, and Jack nodded. "That sounds like him," he said. "Got any photos?" Wordlessly, Axner handed a picture across to him. Most people probably wouldn't recognize their friends' faces in that state, but Jack had seen Daniel beaten bloody all too often in the past. "That's our man," he said feeling sick. "Which hospital?"

"Memorial," Axner said, and Jack stood up, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Colonel, I'm not done with you yet."

"Maybe not, but we need protection on our man, and if he's drugged, we need someone with him." Axner looked startled. "This man works in the highest classification the government has. Do you want some of the hospital staff to disappear into a holding cell while their lives are taken apart piece by piece while we figure out how dangerous they are? Or how about if someone just goes in and finishes the job, taking out anyone who gets in the way?" He shook his head. "I don't know why I'm talking to you. Carter, you're with me."

"Fine, but I'm coming too," Axner said.

"Truck only holds two," Jack replied curtly.

"My car can run the lights."

Jack blinked at him. "Okay, you're coming." On the way down to the lot, Jack called Hammond and got the ball rolling at the SGC. Once they were in the car and moving, Jack said, "Now, what's wrong with him?"

"Well, he hasn't regained consciousness since he was found late last night. Someone tripped over him in the alley between Bartoli's and the all night gym."

"God damn it!" Jack growled. "Of course he hasn't, or you would have called us by now. Exactly what is wrong with him?"

"It appears that he was mugged. His wallet was taken, and I presume he would have had a car?"

"Of course," Carter said. "But that doesn't tell us what's wrong with him."

Axner was quiet for a moment, then he cleared his throat. "He's in a coma."

Jack sat back against the seat of the car, staring out the window. "A coma?" he repeated.

"Yes. He was badly beaten, as I'm sure you saw, and the doctors are concerned about head injuries."

"Someone's going to die," Jack said.

"The doctor's don't think it's likely," Axner said.

"I didn't mean him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Jack hated hospitals. He particularly hated hospitals when people he cared about were in them. He rested his hand on his pistol as they walked through the halls and Axner looked at him funny. When they were in the elevator, the cop said, "Are you armed?"

Jack looked at him. "A civilian consultant working for a highly classified project disappeared and when we call his cell phone we get the cops. Hell yes, I'm armed."

"Right," Axner said. "This way." He took them down to the trauma ICU and got them inside. It was a long corridor filled with nurses and a smattering of doctors. People with sad or worried eyes sat beside beds in the wards on either side.

A nurse met them at the door. "Are you here for the John Doe?"

"Yes," Axner replied.

"I'm Joyce. He's in bed three. This way."

When they got there, there was a nurse on his right side checking his vitals. Jack immediately moved to his left and took his hand gently. "Daniel? Can you hear me? Dannyboy?"

"Is that his name?"

"Yes," Jack said. "Daniel, you in there?" He didn't respond, and his face looked even worse than it had in the picture. Hardly shocking, the bruises had had more time to fill in. His right eye was swollen, and his lips were badly split. Jack wanted to do some serious damage to whoever had done this to Daniel. A mugging. Yeah, right.

"Are you family?" she asked.

"He doesn't have any family, but I'm his emergency contact," Jack said. "Come on, Daniel, talk to me." Jack bit his lip as Daniel just lay there, unmoving except for the rise and fall of his chest. "His personal doctor is on her way. She should be here in about forty minutes."

"Her name?" Joyce asked, standing at a computer terminal on a wheeled stand by the entrance to the cubicle.

"Dr. Janet Fraiser," Carter said. "Now, please, tell me his condition and how you're treating him. I'll also need a complete list of the staff in this ICU, everyone who has so much as looked at Daniel's toes. That includes chaplains and lift teams."

Satisfied that Carter had things well in hand, Jack turned his attention to back Daniel. He didn't like the stillness in the archeologist's usually mobile face. Axner came up beside him. "Do you know of anyone who might want to attack Dr. Jackson?" he asked quietly.

Jack looked over at him irritably. "He works at a top secret government facility. Do you really need to ask that question?"

"I meant anyone personally connected to him," Axner said calmly.

Jack shook his head. "No, Daniel doesn't have many friends outside the program, and I don't think he has any enemies within the program."

"We will need a list of those friends and co-workers," Axner said. "And access to interview them."

Closing his eyes, Jack took a deep breath. "I will have to report upwards and get permission," he said. "And a liaison will be assigned to work with you."

"Can you –"

Jack turned on him. "My friend is in a coma in the ICU. Can we continue this conversation a little later?"

There was sympathy and implacability in Axner's eyes when he replied. "Sir, I understand your distress, but –"

"What is going on here?" asked an annoyed voice. Jack shifted his attention to a man wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard. "Joyce, why are there so many people in here?"

Jack straightened his shoulders. "I am Colonel Jack O'Neill, and I am Dr. Jackson's emergency contact. I will need complete information with regard to his care and condition."

"Dr. Jackson? I take it that's the patient's name?"

Jack's eyes darted to the man's ID badge. "Yes, Dr. Patterson, this is Dr. Daniel Jackson."

"We need to clear some of these people out, regardless. You can stay, but the others have to go."

Jack started to open his mouth, but Axner spoke up. "Colonel, I need to ask you some questions."

"I can't leave Daniel alone," Jack said.

"Can't Major Carter stay with him for the moment? I really do need this information."

Subduing his irritation, Jack said, "Carter?"

"Yes sir?"

"Get me immediately if there's any change," Jack said. "I need to call the General in any case." She nodded and continued her conversation with Joyce. Jack raised his eyebrow at Axner, then jerked his head toward the door. Axner headed out and Jack caught Patterson's eye. "Daniel's doctor will be here in another half hour or so. In the meantime, you don't do anything without either Major Carter or I present."

"Your friend is my patient. I will do what I see fit when I see fit."

Jack's eyes narrowed, and Axner put a hand on his arm. "O'Neill, you can't shoot him."

Patterson looked startled, but he shrugged, apparently treating the remark as a joke. "Shooting aside, if you're his emergency contact, I need you to tell me if there's anything I should know before continuing to treat this man. Any allergies? Any special needs? Is he taking any medications?"

Jack filled him in quickly, then followed Axner out into the hall. "You had questions?" he asked brusquely when the cop didn't immediately speak.

"I need to know everything I can about this man. You said in there that you're his emergency contact. Does that mean he has no family, or that he has no contact with his family?"

Jack bit his lip. "He's a widower. His wife died two months ago after . . ." He grimaced. This could be very misleading. "After being missing for two and a half years."

"She was missing?" Axner asked immediately. "Under what circumstances?"

"Trust me, there is no way it could be connected," Jack said. Axner raised his eyebrows. "She was abducted and then killed, and it was related to Daniel's work. That's all I can tell you about her. He doesn't have any brothers or sisters. His parents died when he was very young. I don't know of any other family."

"I see. And friends?"

"Well, there's me and Carter." Jack considered mentioning Teal'c, then shook his head. "I'm going to have to check with my superiors on just what I can tell you with regard to his friends at work, Axner. I'm sorry. Outside of work, I know he's friendly with several bookstore owners, like the guy who owns Bartoli's, there are a couple of people he knows to go to coffee with . . . he doesn't have many other friends that I know of."

Axner made a few notes. "Where does he live?" Jack gave Daniel's address. "No roommates? No girlfriends?"

Jack shook his head. "He lives alone, and I think I mentioned the thing about being a recent widower? His wife has been missing, he's been devastated. No girlfriends."

"Sorry, in the world I live in, that's no guarantee."

Taking a deep breath, Jack tried to figure out how to get Daniel across to this man. "Okay, let me see if I can give you an idea about Daniel Jackson. He's the kind of guy who . . . who helps little old ladies with their groceries, and then listens to them talk about their cats. If you look in the dictionary under goody-two-shoes, you find a picture of Daniel."

"I see," Axner said, looking vaguely perturbed.

"Honestly, I can't see someone who knows Daniel wanting to hurt him. Not someone who wasn't abnormal to begin with."

"So, you don't think Dr. Jackson has any enemies?"

Jack's mind flashed to Maybourne. Daniel had screwed up more than one of that man's plans in the past, and Jack wouldn't put it past him to pull something illegal. Senator Kinsey, too, had reason to resent Daniel's interference. But there was nothing recent, no particular reason to pick on Daniel. Not unless there were plans they didn't know about that a whole, healthy Daniel would mess up.

"You've thought of someone," Axner observed. "Who?"

Jack shook his head. "I can't. And not really. I . . ." He pursed his lips. "I need to call General Hammond. Excuse me."

Jack left Axner behind and hurried outside the hospital. Pressing speed dial for the mountain and hastily asked the operator to put him through to the general. A couple of clicks and some very annoying music later, Hammond picked up. "Any news?" he demanded without preamble.

"Daniel's comatose, sir," Jack said, and he heard the alarmed intake of breath at the other end of the line. "I didn't get anything more than that because Lt. Axner wanted all the details of Daniel's life in summary format. Sir, can you send someone out here from Legal to get this guy off my back?"

"Major Evans is coming with Dr. Fraiser, and he'll act as liaison for the time being. Who is with Dr. Jackson?"

"Carter. She's getting the c.v. on everyone who's been within ten feet of him."

"How does he look?" Hammond asked, and Jack's voice failed him briefly.

When he could speak again, he said, "Kind of like someone took exception to the shape of his face, sir. I haven't gotten the full run down on his injuries yet, but he didn't so much as twitch an eyelid when I called him Dannyboy."

Hammond was silent for a moment, then he said, "I'm sure he'll be fine, colonel. Dr. Jackson has recovered from harsh treatment in the past." It was the general at his most calm and confident, but Jack didn't much like being soothed. He particularly didn't like needing to be soothed.

He didn't voice his worries regarding the head trauma, aware that he had an almost superstitious dread of mentioning it lest speaking of it made it come true. He cleared his throat. "Are you coming out here later?"

"I'll be leaving as soon as SG-7 has reported in. Please keep me posted on any changes in his condition."

"Yes sir," Jack said and turned the phone off. God only knew how much cell phone signals affected hospital machinery, but he was damned if he was taking any risks with Daniel's health. In fact, as he passed people in the halls who had cell phones on and were chattering, he had to make a serious effort not to snatch them away and remove their batteries.

He returned to the ICU where he found Carter sitting by Daniel's bed holding his hand. Jack walked in quietly. "You okay, Carter?" he asked in a soft voice.

She looked up, her eyes glistening slightly, but also full of fury. "Yes sir, I'm fine," she said firmly. "I have my list, and I need to get it to security so we can check these people out."

"Of course," Jack said. "I'll stay here." She ceded the chair to him and he sat down. Gazing into that unmoving face, Jack summoned up a steady flow of words to pour into Daniel's ears. He'd annoy him back to consciousness if need be.

Within a relatively short but unnumbered time, he heard a familiar voice in the central hallway of the ICU. "I'll need his charts and everything else you can give me," Janet Fraiser said. The SGC's little Napoleon was still out of sight, but she was taking charge and Jack was glad to hear it. Her heels clicking on the linoleum, she walked into the room shortly after he heard her voice, Joyce right beside her, providing her with the information she'd asked for.

She paused briefly at the sight of Daniel's mangled face, then started snapping out questions while she pulled on rubber gloves and started checking him over. Jack backed up against the wall while she carried out her exam. "Has he spoken at all?" she asked Joyce.

"No, doctor," Joyce replied.

Janet shook her head as she checked Daniel's eyes with her evil pen light. "Colonel, you're going to have to work out a rotation of officers to sit with him," she said. "He can't be moved in this condition." Jack nodded wordlessly. She turned to fix him with a gimlet stare. "And that will need to consist of more than just you and Sam," she added. He nodded again, going through the mission roster in his head. Janet turned away. "Joyce, do you know if you've got anyone on this ward who either has or has in the past had any level of military clearance?"

Joyce shook her head. "It really hasn't come up."

"Not even with NORAD so close by?" she asked, and Joyce shook her head again.

"Doc?" Jack said, and Janet turned towards him. "Carter's running the staff list as we speak."

"Good," Fraiser said. "I'll check with her. You keep bugging him." She winked at him and he gave her a weak grin.

Jack sat back down and leaned against the back of the chair. "So, Daniel, you hear that? I've got explicit permission . . . no, encouragement, to annoy you! This rocks." He contemplated things to say. He finally started talking about a particularly sensationalized documentary about ancient Egypt, presenting all the outrageous claims as fact. After he'd been talking for awhile, Carter came up behind, listening.

"Sir?" she said tentatively after a couple of minutes. He paused and looked up at her expectantly. "Are you trying to drive him crazy?"

"I'm trying to incite him to tell me to shut up." He turned back towards Daniel, preparatory to returning to his monologue.

"Ah," she said with an odd tone of understanding. She stood silently for a moment longer, then cleared her throat. "Sir, I think it's my turn."

"I'm fine," Jack said.

"I know, sir, but you haven't eaten and . . ." She moistened her lips. "And your voice is getting hoarse."

"Carter, I'm fine!" he said irritably, turning as he spoke. His eyes fell on General Hammond who stood framed in the open doorway of the ward.

"How's this, colonel?" he said, and Carter turned in surprise at the sound of his voice. "You two both go grab a bite to eat and I'll stay with him awhile."

Jack stood immediately. "Yes sir," he said. "I just – I –"

"I understand, colonel," Hammond said. "Dismissed. Please put together a rotation. Using these individuals. I had Walter get me their schedules, so that should help."

"Yes sir," Jack said, taking the slim folder Hammond held out. "Thank you." He walked out of the ward, glancing back as he left to see the general settle down in the chair and lean towards Daniel. Carter kept going, and Jack reluctantly caught up with her as they exited the ICU.

The cafeteria was nearly full, but there was space for the pair of them. They got food, Jack grabbing things on autopilot, and sat down at an empty table.

"Sir?" Carter said, and Jack looked up from his food. "Janet says there's no real cause for concern yet, that he will probably make a full recovery."

"No cause for concern?" Jack repeated incredulously. "The man is in a coma!"

"You know they don't worry that much about comas unless they last more than twenty-four hours."

"They can do what they want," Jack snapped. "We don't even know for sure how long he's been unconscious. We don't have –"

Carter's eyes shifted to a point over his left shoulder, then back again, a clear indication that someone was approaching. Jack broke off and turned to see Lt. Axner and Major Evans. Axner, at least, had clearly heard what they'd been saying. "Actually, we have a better idea than we did of just when the attack occurred," the police lieutenant said. Major Evans nodded confirmation. "Mind if we sit down?" He gestured at the empty chairs at the table.

"Sure. What narrows it down?"

Evans leaned forward. "Evidently, Dr. Jackson paid for his purchases with a credit card, and Tom Bartoli says that they talked for about fifteen minutes afterwards. That puts him in the alley at roughly eleven-thirty."

"And he was found when?" Jack asked.

"Nearly one a.m.," Axner replied.

"What was he doing there that late?" Jack asked. "Bartoli's closes at seven on Wednesdays."

Axner's attention sharpened. "How do you know that?"

Jack's eyebrows rose at the implication of his sudden interest. "I shop there too, from time to time," he said acerbically. "Believe it or not, dumb grunts like me do read."

Axner made a note and shrugged. "Sorry, colonel, wasn't implying otherwise." He flipped a page up. "Eight hundred and fifty on books. Six books. One of them was four hundred by itself."

Carter nodded. "Daniel's kind of books don't tend to come cheaply," she said. "I wonder if he was buying for work or for his personal collection."

Axner flipped another page. "The books were found in a bag in the alley. Titles like . . ." His brows drew together. "I can't pronounce this."

"He's a linguist," Jack said. "He's fluent in twenty-three languages, and able to communicate in more." Jack shrugged. "I didn't even know there _were_ more than twenty-three languages."

"Regardless, according to Bartoli, he let Dr. Jackson out the front door and finished a few things up and left about twenty minutes later. He heard nothing, and saw nothing suspicious when he left, but he lives in walking distance, so he had no reason to go down that alley."

"So the attack had to have been over before Tom came out," Jack said.

"Unless Dr. Jackson might have gone somewhere afterwards, for coffee or something."

Carter shook her head. "We had a mission this morning," she said. "He would never have been late for it."

Axner started to write, but then he paused and looked up. "A mission?"

Jack shrugged and stepped on Carter's foot. "I'm surprised he was out as late as that in any case. Did Tom say why he didn't kick Daniel out at seven? He's done so before."

"Even with the promise of eight hundred dollar purchases?" Axner asked.

"Even with," Jack said.

"Actually, Bartoli said he had paperwork to do and was staying late anyway, so when Dr. Jackson didn't immediately respond to his announcement that the shop was closed, he just let him continue to browse."

"He must have found something useful," Carter said. "Can I see that?" Axner handed over the list of books, and she perused it. "Latin, Arabic . . . whoa, I know he's been looking for this for years."

"But he clearly wasn't attacked for the books, because they're still here," Axner said.

"I didn't say he was," Carter replied. "But this list does explain why he'd have stayed for so long. You wouldn't find these in the same section, and most people wouldn't make any connections between them. I suspect Daniel has, though. Were there any papers in the bag with the books?"

"Yes, but I don't –"

"Do you have them here?" Jack asked.

"Copies."

"Hand them over. If they're Daniel's working materials, we have to have them."

"Copies have already been sent to the Mountain, colonel," Evans said.

"Can I please see them anyway?" Carter asked. "I probably won't be able to read them, but there's always the chance."

Axner shrugged. "I can't make heads or tails of them," he said, pulling them out and handing them across to Carter. "If you can, I hope you'll share."

"If I can," Carter said, glancing at Jack. She took the pages and gazed down at them. Jack peered over her shoulder at Daniel's precise chicken scratch. It was in English, but in Danielese, which wasn't intelligible to ordinary mortals. Carter bit her lips. "Maybe Rothman can make something of it," she said after a few minutes. "But I think this might be connected to that thing from last week."

Jack looked down at the paper, trying to figure out how she made that connection, but Axner distracted him. "How could some ancient text be related to 'the thing from last week'?" the lieutenant demanded.

"What difference does that make?" Jack asked.

"Everything makes a difference!" Axner grated.

Jack glanced over at Evans who nodded. "I'm afraid that's a matter requiring clearance, lieutenant," the major from Legal said smoothly.

"Can you guarantee me that it has nothing to do with this investigation?" Axner demanded.

"As I told you, there is a concurrent investigation going on," Evans said soothingly. Axner looked anything but soothed. "And we will share all the information we can as we can, but there are matters of national security at stake here."

Axner glowered at him. "Well, national security is admittedly not my pidgin, but the security of that man in that hospital room up there is, and I'll be damned if I put up with a lot of bureaucratic double talk." Jack felt himself get a little hot under the collar, but he wasn't sure who he was madder at. The people keeping secrets from the cops, or the cop for assuming that they didn't give a damn about Daniel.

"National security trumps local concerns," Evans said. Axner subsided with bad grace and Jack could sympathize with his frustration. Evans took a breath and shrugged. "Besides, it is possible that this was just a random robbery."

Axner shook his head. "I'm not inclined to think so."

"Why not?" Evans asked. "There's no concrete evidence either way."

Axner raised his hands and began enumerating on his fingers. "The locale, being a parking lot next door to an all night gym and used frequently by members of that gym after the bookstore is closed, does not lend itself to drug deals, clandestine meetings, or random muggings. His cell phone was found in a trash can near the Wal-Mart, and his credit cards were found in a trash can uptown." Jack blinked. "They've been used already, a sure sign of amateurs, not pros. They used his MasterCard after we reported it stolen, and we caught them when the store called."

"I see. What makes you think that the people using his credit cards weren't the attackers?" Evans asked.

"Because they were in a holding cell on a drunk and disorderly downtown from ten p.m. until well after Dr. Jackson was found," Axner replied. "Regardless, none of the cards were sold, the cell phone wasn't sold, and we haven't found any piece of his identification."

"His car was taken," Evans pointed out.

"If they were car thieves, they hardly needed to wait for him to come out. Car thieves don't wait for keys, and there is a definite indication that someone waited in that parking lot for some time." He grimaced. "Add to that the known fact that he works for a top secret government facility that mobilized four high level officers as soon as his situation was discovered, and it doesn't lead me towards random violence." Jack didn't like this compilation of facts, but he had to agree. Random violence didn't seem to fit the bill, however convenient the military might find it to write it off to that. "Furthermore, the very nature of the attack argues against it."

"How so?" Carter asked.

"The victim, while not by any means a soldier, has been trained in both armed unarmed combat, or so I've been informed." Evans looked disgruntled, but he didn't argue. Axner raised his eyebrows questioningly at Jack who nodded. He'd certainly tried. "That he fought back is evident from the bruises on his arms and legs, and the very violence of the assault suggests a personal attack rather than a random one."

Jack thought about the way Daniel's face had been mauled and controlled a shudder. "Ya think?" he said, earning himself a mild glare from Evans. "Come on, Evans, have you even seen him yet?"

"Actually, no," the major said, and Jack pursed his lips.

"Go upstairs now and get a look at him. You need to have an idea of what you're dealing with, and photos aren't going to do it."

"Sir, I'm here to –"

"That wasn't a request, major," Jack said sharply.

Evans sat up straighter and then he rose. "Yes sir," he said and left the cafeteria.

As he left, a woman wearing a hospital ID badge walked in, looking around. She saw Axner and headed towards him. "Lt. Axner, this fax arrived for you. I thought you'd want it right away."

He took it and she left. Jack tried to return to his food, but his curiosity about what the fax was about got the better of him. "What is that?" he asked.

"Confirmation of something I suspected. There were at least two assailants."

"How do you know?" Carter asked.

"Besides the sheer level of damage inflicted in so short a time on a man who is trained in combat techniques?" Carter bit her lip and nodded. "He apparently used his car keys to strengthen his right fist. There are marks in his palm and between his fingers that are consistent with that." Jack nodded. That was basic self defense. "Part of a decorative keychain that has been identified by Major Evans as belonging to Dr. Jackson was found near his hand with blood on it." Jack found the images that were populating his head as Axner spoke both disturbing and infuriating. "The blood has been tested and I just got the results. There are three distinct blood types, one of which matches Dr. Jackson's."

Jack looked his emotions down as the rage threatened to overwhelm him. It was odd. He knew Daniel had been attacked and brutally beaten. He knew, but somehow details just increased his anger as images of Daniel fighting back against well trained opponents with the only weapons he had at his disposal filled his mind.

"As a murder method, it's pretty savage," Axner observed and Jack had to throttle his rage down again.

"I don't think murder was the goal," Carter said, and both men turned to her in surprise. She shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, if they'd wanted him dead, they could have left him that way. There was clearly no one to stop him." Jack nodded tensely. "It's almost worse in a way, really," she said, her face contorting in dismay. "They didn't necessarily want him dead, but they didn't much care if he died."

Axner stared at her, blinking. "So, what do you think the goal was?"

"Well, if it wasn't a couple of junkies too strung out to know what they were doing, I don't know," she said, but Jack could tell she had an idea that made her uneasy.

Jack shook his head. "Whatever the goal, the results are what I'm worried about." He finished up his macaroni. "I'm going back to the room."

"Sir, you barely ate anything," Carter said.

"I ate enough," Jack replied, standing up. "Stay with Axner until Evans comes back." Carter opened her mouth to speak, but Jack didn't give her a chance. He headed out of the commissary and straight up to the ICU.

Evans was waiting for the elevator when the doors opened. Jack started forward, but Evans caught his arm. "Hammond sent me for you," he said. Jack stared into the other man's eyes. "He's awake."

Jack's heart skipped a beat. "Tell Carter," he said and hurried through into the ICU. Jack got to the doorway of the room and found Fraiser there with two nurses and Dr. Patterson. Hammond was standing back against the wall, watching while they tested him.

"What is your mother's name?" Fraiser asked.

"Jack?"

"Jack?" Patterson repeated, sounding puzzled. Then he saw the direction of Daniel's eyes and turned. "Oh, I see. Dr. Jackson? Your mother's name?"

"Claire," Daniel said. "And I don't want to answer any more questions, Janet." His voice was weak and his words were sort of muffled what with the bruising on his mouth.

"Okay, Daniel," she said. "How much pain are you in, on a scale of one to ten?"

He blinked a couple of times, then grimaced. "Painstick," he said, and Fraiser froze briefly. Then she nodded and started ordering painkillers.

"What does that mean?" Patterson asked.

"Like someone beat him with a stick, duh!" Jack said.

"What happened to me?" Daniel asked. "Mission?"

"Nope," Jack replied, throwing a glance at Hammond.

"Gool?" Daniel murmured, clearly losing ground in the consciousness arena. Jack could only be grateful that his enunciation was going along with his sense.

"Nope," Jack said, moving to the foot of the bed. "Just a garden variety mugging."

Daniel's eyes narrowed briefly, but whatever thought he'd had apparently evaporated. He glanced up at Jack. "King Tut was _not_ a cross dresser," he said, apparently apropos of nothing. Hammond, Patterson and Joyce looked seriously alarmed. Fraiser pursed her lips and looked inquiringly at Jack. Before he could answer, though, Daniel's eyes closed and he seemed to go unconscious again. Jack leaned closer, more than a little worried.

"It's all right, colonel," Fraiser said. "He's just asleep."

Hammond had by this time observed both Fraiser's total lack of alarm and her thoughtful gaze at Jack, and his alarm had dissipated. Patterson, however, glanced uneasily around at the audience and said, "Are you sure doctor? That last remark was a little peculiar."

"That's my fault," Jack said. "I told him about a particularly wacky documentary I saw a week or so ago, figuring it would piss him off enough to get him to wake up just to tell me off."

Carter walked into the room and stopped next to Jack, staring in consternation. "Major Evans said he was awake."

"He was, now he's asleep," Jack said. "But my plan worked."

"He told you that you were nuts, sir?" she asked with a straight face.

Jack started to answer, but a voice from the bed interrupted him. "Sleeping here," Daniel muttered. "Jack, Sam, shut up or go away."

Carter grinned down at the archeologist who hadn't so much as slitted an eye. Jack was relieved beyond words. Daniel was back for sure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

With Daniel asleep again, the general gestured the Jack and Carter back out into the hallway. "All right, colonel, do you have a rotation worked out yet?"

"No sir, Lt. Axner joined us, so I was distracted."

"Fine, then you stay with Dr. Jackson and get that paperwork dealt with. Major Carter, please stay nearby to spell him as necessary."

"Yes sir," Carter said.

"In the meantime, I have a meeting with the chief of police and FBI bureau chief." Jack grimaced. That sounded like all kinds of fun. Hammond fixed him with a stern look. "Please keep me posted."

"Yes sir," Jack said.

"Axner's going to want to talk to Daniel as soon as possible," Carter said.

"He's out of luck for now," Fraiser said quietly, coming up behind him. "I don't think we want anyone asking him too many questions while he's doped up. The answers could be problematic."

Hammond nodded. "He doesn't remember anything yet anyway," he said. "I'll make that clear during my meeting, and that should fend the good lieutenant off for the time being. O'Neill, keep an ear out for anything valuable he might say."

Jack nodded and took up the seat the general had vacated and started going through the file. The list was short, and as he looked at the names, he realized that all the people had a couple of things in common. One, not one of them was a civilian, they were all trained, combat ready soldiers. Two, every last one of them, himself excluded, had a solid alibi for the time of the attack. Sgt. Preston was on the kitchen staff on the evening shift, Carter had been hard at work on some project or other, as always, and Gottleib and Munn had both been on duty it the gateroom. The members of SG-6 had returned from a mission late in the night, and SG-3 had only returned this morning. That gave him thirteen people including himself.

He began writing out a schedule. Both teams were on stand down for a week, which gave them more flexibility. He paired people up because he wanted someone with Daniel all the time, and that meant having two people so one could spell the other. He had difficulty guessing how Daniel would react to waking up to find some of the people on this list sitting with him, but much as he didn't want to admit it, Jack knew that he and Carter couldn't realistically split the duty between them.

* * *

Daniel was aware of beeps and the sound of pages turning as he came to a sense of the world around him. He opened his eyes and tried to remember what mission had put him in the infirmary. The ceiling above him was wrong and he blinked a few times. "Where . . ." he started, but he didn't finish.

"Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel turned his head and stared in utter astonishment at Robert Makepeace, who sat in the chair beside the bed. He was in some kind of a ward, a hospital ward, that wasn't in the SGC, but Colonel Robert Makepeace was in the room with him. "Makepeace?"

"Welcome back," said the marine colonel. "How are you feeling?"

Daniel evaluated his aches and pains and the muffled state of his mind that heralded heavy drugs, and blinked. Even that hurt. "Confused," he said. "Why am I in a public hospital?"

"You got attacked outside Bartoli's bookstore," Makepeace said. "They said you didn't remember anything."

Daniel cast his mind back for the last thing he remembered. "Mesopotamian text, on pottery shards. Steve Barret's team brought them, and they . . . they're important somehow."

"What about it?"

"I remember thinking that I needed some books and finding an e-mail from Tom telling me that he'd gotten a new shipment in with some stuff that might interest me."

"Is that it?"

Daniel nodded. "What the hell happened? I feel like someone dumped a ton of bricks on me."

"Two tons," Makepeace said. "I'd better get Fraiser." Daniel watched him get up and go towards the end of the bed. Reaching out, he found the little button pad on the side of the bed that controlled the attitude of the bed, and tilted his head up. Makepeace stopped in the entrance to the ward, which was wide open to the hallway. There were a lot of machines around him, beeping, and Daniel glared up at the stand that held his IVs. There were labels, of course, but he couldn't see them.

"Daniel?"

He turned his attention forward again. "Janet? Can I have my glasses?"

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm not sure where we'd put them," she said. "You've got some nasty swelling, and I doubt they'd be comfortable."

"What happened?" he asked.

"We're not altogether certain," Janet said. "And I've been asked not to tell you too much about what we've guessed because we're hoping you'll remember on your own."

"What?" Daniel shook his head. "Janet, that's crazy."

"You were attacked," Janet said. "That much I can tell you. You stayed very late at Bartoli's Books, and you were found two hours later unconscious in the alley behind the store. You spent about twelve hours in a coma, and then –"

Daniel thumped his head back onto the pillow. "Then Jack started making up some bizarre story about Tutankhamun."

Janet smiled. "Actually, he said it was a documentary he saw. How are you feeling?"

"What do you think?" he asked dryly. "What exactly is wrong with me?"

She lost the grin instantly and pursed her lips. "Well, you have a concussion, you've got two broken ribs, your left ulna is fractured, and you've got very deep bruises everywhere, including your kidneys." Daniel looked down at his arm and the cast that covered it. "You'll live, but you're going to be very uncomfortable for awhile."

"Yeah," Daniel said weakly. Makepeace had come back to sit down in the chair next to the bed. Daniel glanced over at him, then back at Janet. "Where's Jack?"

"I sent him home," Janet said. "He'd been here for twelve hours and was showing no signs of leaving." She looked at all the machines, asked him a few questions that struck him as overly personal, then left, promising to come back shortly. Daniel hated how painkillers made him feel.

"He didn't go peacefully, either," Makepeace said. "There was a great deal of cursing."

Daniel turned his head. "I can imagine." The marine colonel had a book on his lap, a slip of paper marking his spot. "So, no offense or anything, but why are you here?"

"Hammond had O'Neill work out a schedule so we wouldn't be leaving you alone," Makepeace said. "I got this shift."

"I see." Daniel was beginning to feel sleepy again. "Great, I'm drifting out again."

"You need your rest, Jackson," Makepeace said.

"How long have I already slept, though?" Daniel asked.

"Not long enough, apparently." Makepeace leaned forward. "Go back to sleep, Jackson."

"I don't want to," Daniel muttered, but it was a losing battle. He heard Janet's footsteps returning as he slipped back to sleep.

* * *

"So, how often does Dr. Jackson come in here?" Axner asked. Jack was wandering a bit, glancing at the books on the shelves, looking for signs of who knew what. He'd been told to leave the hospital but the word 'home' hadn't actually been used, and he was too keyed up to rest.

"Hard to predict," Bartoli said. "Most of the time it's a couple, three times a month, but there are times I see him more often and other times . . . like earlier this year I didn't see him for two months running, even though we had an appointment." Jack wondered which mission that had been during.

"He missed an appointment? Was that usual?"

"No, he's always very good about that kind of thing."

"Do you often make appointments with customers?"

"With customers like Dr. Jackson I do," Bartoli said with a grin. "Between his personal purchases and his government purchase orders, I do very good business with him. And sometimes he helps me to evaluate books whose value I'm not certain of."

Axner raised his eyebrows. "You mean he works for you?"

Bartoli shook his head. "Oh, no, he does it as a courtesy. One scholar to another, you see. I'm not up to his level by any means, but I don't think anyone is." Jack nodded without speaking, but Axner saw the movement and made a note. "And on that occasion, I had some things coming in that I knew he'd be interested in, and I was giving him first refusal on them."

"Did his missing that appointment cause you any trouble, then?"

Bartoli shrugged. "He said he was called unexpectedly out of town. I don't actually get a lot of people coming in for the books he buys, so it was no hardship to wait."

"Do you know why he came Wednesday night?"

"Well, I e-mailed him," Bartoli said. "I got a shipment that included a book he'd specifically asked for, so I let him know."

"Why was he here so late if he came in for one specific book?"

"Dr. Jackson never stops with one specific book," Bartoli said with a grin. Jack snorted. Daniel. One book. Sure. "I told him I'd gotten a few new books in linguistics and folklore that he hadn't seen yet and he disappeared into the back of the store. I didn't see him again till I made the last sweep of the store at quarter till seven. He had two books open on the floor in front of him, a third in his hands, and he didn't even hear me when I spoke."

"Is that typical?" Axner asked, glancing over at Jack.

"Not usually, at least not here," Bartoli said with a look at Jack.

"It depends on what's going on in his head," Jack said. "There are times when we have to bring him finger food that he can eat while he's working or he doesn't eat at all." Jack shrugged. "He tries to avoid getting that involved in public, but there's a particular project, kind of important, that he's working on."

"Care to give me a few details on that?" Axner asked.

Jack grinned. "Well, apart from the fact that it's classified, I couldn't even if I wanted to. You really think I understand half of what he gets up to?"

"I don't know what he does," Axner said. "That puts me at a disadvantage in guessing whether you'd understand it."

"Well, it's beyond me what a military unit wants with books on cuneiform or hagiography," Bartoli said, "but I'm sure they have their reasons."

Axner and Bartoli both looked at Jack who shrugged. "Classified."

"Hagiography is classified?" Axner asked skeptically.

Jack shrugged. "Not the subject itself so much as why Daniel wants it."

"So, is there any chance he's using his government purchase orders inappropriately?" Axner asked. "Buying books that are out of line for his job?"

Jack blinked. "Actually, it's far more likely that he's buying books with his own money that he could easily justify buying on PO, just so he can keep them. That's Daniel all over." He pursed his lips. "Remember me saying you could look up goody two shoes in the dictionary and –"

"And I'd find a picture of him." Axner nodded. "Anyway, Mr. Bartoli, you ever hear anyone saying anything bad about Dr. Jackson?" Bartoli shook his head. "This wasn't an appointment?"

"No, he dropped in, but I thought he'd be in soon."

"Did you tell anyone else you expected to see him?"

"Yes, actually." Axner'd had that winding down the interview and contemplating the next step air about him. Now his attention focused firmly on Bartoli again. "Lisa, one of my clerks, she has a crush on him. She asked for two weeks off, and I told her that she'd probably miss seeing him." He shrugged. "That's it."

"Was she disappointed?"

Bartoli grinned. "She's twenty-three and she thinks he's hot, so yeah, but she still went to Santa Fe."

"Can you give me her contact information?" Axner asked, and while they were talking about that, Jack drifted to the back of the store to the section Daniel had been browsing. He still wasn't sure what he was looking for. He just couldn't figure out how anyone would have known where Daniel was without hanging around for hours in a pretty public place, watching him. There was no doubt in his mind that the attack had been personal in nature, but how had they known where he'd be? Somehow, Jack didn't see Lisa being a plant, and somehow, 'my boss says Dr. Jackson might be coming by sometime in the next two weeks' didn't strike him as much to work from.

Axner finished up and Jack joined him as he left the building. "So," Jack said, "I'm assuming that you asked around to see if someone was watching the street?"

"Naturally, and no one was seen." Axner grimaced, looking up at the office building opposite. "And it seems unlikely that someone in one of those offices could have gotten down here that quickly. It's not as if the victim would have been idling around, waiting to be attacked."

"Did anyone stay unusually long at the gym?" Jack asked.

"You can't see this alley from the gym," Axner said.

"No, but if someone was watching from one of those offices, they'd see him. The gym is a lot closer to the street, and cell phones are ubiquitous. No one would even think twice if someone got a call." Axner pursed his lips thoughtfully, and Jack found himself missing Daniel's jabs at him about four-syllable words. "I take it no one's reported seeing someone hanging around in the parking lot?"

"Actually, they have," he said, flipping his notebook open. "Here's the description. Shaggy dark hair and beard, long baggy coat, dirty, smelly . . ."

"Charming."

"No one looked any closer than that, of course," Axner remarked sourly. "One guy called to report him as drunk in public, but that's not real high priority, and no one made it out here to check."

"Great." Jack stifled a yawn.

"Forgive me for being blunt, colonel, but you look beat. Why don't you go home?"

"And do what?" Jack stifled a second yawn.

"Sleep is a popular notion," Axner suggested.

"Where to next?" Jack asked, ignoring the man's unsubtle hint.

"I'm heading back to the office," Axner said. "You can follow me, but I see little point to that."

Jack scowled. It appeared to be a conspiracy to get him to go to bed. Evans had gone back to base to organize suitable investigators, Carter had, true to the spirit of her orders, gone home to get some rest. Teal'c was stuck back at the mountain because no one wanted him spending too much time around uncleared people who knew what human beings were supposed to look like on the inside.

He parted ungraciously with Axner at the parking lot of the police station and got into his truck. When he got to the house, he slammed inside and went upstairs. It lacked ten minutes till nine in the morning, which was a ridiculous time to go to bed. Irritably, he stripped off his clothes and climbed into the bed. He didn't feel remotely sleepy, but, when he let himself think realistically, he knew he had to get some rest. Fortunately, the day was cloudy, so the light coming in through the windows was muted. He rolled over and pulled a pillow over his face.

His mind wouldn't stop racing, turning over possible reasons someone could have for attacking Daniel. People who might have reasons for attacking him. Axner was right, the ferocity of that beating spoke of personal animosity. He lay awake for a long while, unable to quiet his mind. Eventually, he drifted into a half-sleep that deepened gradually.

He woke up with a headache that made him want to close his eyes and go back to sleep. Sitting up, he rubbed at a stiffness in his neck. The sun was high in the sky, and the digital clock beside the bed read two p.m. He grimaced. Four hours was enough sleep for anyone.

A quick shower later, he was on the road. He swung by McDonalds for a Big Mac on his way to the hospital. When he arrived he found Feretti sitting in the room with Daniel. The major looked distinctly uneasy, and Jack couldn't blame him. Daniel and Fraiser appeared to be at it hammer and tongs.

"– absolutely not!" Fraiser was saying emphatically.

"Why not?" Daniel demanded with a stubborn tilt to his chin.

Fraiser shook her head. "I've limited your fluid intake for a reason, Daniel," she said. "I'm not going to let you have coffee if I'm not giving you water."

"It's a diuretic," Daniel protested. "It won't stay long."

"And by all means, let's put added strain on your bruised kidneys. Daniel, the answer is no, and that's final." She turned to go, and that's when they all seemed to become aware of Jack's presence.

"Jack, tell her I need coffee," Daniel said, turning those big soulful eyes on him.

Jack tuned out the pleading. "Don't really think I want her to break out the big needles next time I need checked out," he said easily. Fraiser gave him a mild glare, but she seemed reassured that he wasn't going to put pressure on her to give in to Daniel's whims.

"Coward," Daniel muttered. "What, between you and Lou, you can't –"

"Daniel, please!" Feretti exclaimed. "Keep me outta this!"

"Surrounded," Daniel said tragically.

At first Jack had thought the banter was a good sign, but Daniel really wasn't looking so hot. "Hey, Dannyboy, I'll be back in a minute. I need a quick word with Fraiser."

Daniel sighed and shrugged acknowledgment of his words, then rested his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and directing his attention towards the TV in the corner. Fraiser nodded in response to the implied request, but she made a couple of checks on Daniel's tubes and monitors, which gave Jack a moment to look his friend over.

There was a sheen of sweat on his face, and when he wasn't trying too hard to be normal, Jack could see a catch in his breathing. His forehead wrinkled and his eyes went hazy with pain meds.

Fraiser finished up and bent over the head of Daniel's bed, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "Get some rest, Daniel," she said softly. The archeologist gave her a weak smile.

Jack sketched a salute at him, gave a nod to Feretti, then followed Fraiser out into the hall outside the ICU. "What's wrong with him, doc?" he asked without preamble.

"Besides a congenital unwillingness to let me do my job?" she growled, and Jack blinked. "Sorry, sir," she added instantly, but he just shook his head, absolving her of the need to apologize. "He's got pulmonary contusions, the byproduct of which is fluid on the lungs. We need to limit the amount of liquid he takes in so that there's less fluid available to collect there."

"Are you saying he's getting pneumonia?"

"No, I'm saying he's a prime candidate, and his obstinacy is not helping matters."

"So, bruised lungs and bruised kidneys. Anything else?"

"The broken ribs," Fraiser said. "His torso is a black and purple mess." She shook her head. "It's one thing seeing something like this after battle, but this was nothing more than a beating. It's nauseating."

"I know," Jack said. "But is there anything I need to be wary of? He looks like . . . well, like crap."

"He's got a fever and he's pretty doped up. I'm keeping him on cough suppressants because with that bruising he really doesn't need to be coughing, which is just adding to the problem of fluid in his lungs. I'd really rather keep him off a ventilator if I can manage it." She grimaced. "And he doesn't want to let himself rest . . . I don't understand it. He wants me to act like he's fine and will be out in a few days."

"And he's not," Jack said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Not hardly. He isn't even out of the ICU yet, and that's not just because of the higher level of security in here. He needs the higher level of care."

"I was surprised to see you here," Jack said. "I thought you'd have gone back to the mountain and left someone else to manage things here."

"There isn't anyone else who can manage Daniel in this vein," Fraiser said. "I don't trust the folks here to withstand his charisma or his glib tongue."

"That's the damned truth," Jack said sourly.

"There's nothing urgent going on at the garage, and if they need me, they know where to find me. In the meantime, why don't you go sit on your archeologist?"

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Because he's fragile," he said with a straight face.

She gave him a dirty look, but he obligingly went in and ousted Feretti. Lou tended to let Daniel get away with more than he should – Jack wasn't sure why – but with Daniel in this obdurate frame of mind, it was probably wiser to have someone a little more forceful watching over him. Someone almost as stubborn as he was.

Daniel didn't say anything for awhile, watching, or pretending to watch, a show on home improvement. It was never easy to tell when Daniel was faking it. Subject matter didn't help. He'd once assumed Daniel was zoning at the screen during a documentary about football and had changed the channel. Daniel had insisted on changing it back. Said it was a fascinating study of socio-something or other.

Jack picked up the book he'd left here the previous day and started reading again, glancing up frequently. He wasn't sure whether he should talk or not. Daniel probably didn't need to be doing a lot of exertion, and Daniel talking was not a low energy phenomenon.

Abruptly, Daniel turned his head towards Jack. "So, do you think you could get some work out of the mountain for me?" he said.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Well, there's a bet I've lost."

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "Bet?"

"Yeah, Carter said you'd ask for your books and rocks today, I said you'd wait till tomorrow. Go figure." He chuckled. "I guess you anal, workaholic types know each other better than I thought."

Daniel glared. "Well, are you going to get me something to do?"

"Sure, Daniel, I'll get you some crosswords the moment Fraiser clears you for it."

"Jack, I need to work. You know that."

"What I know is that you need to rest," Jack said. "We'll talk about work when you don't look like you're melting."

"Melting?"

"You've got a fever, Daniel, and your right hand is bandaged to a fare-thee-well. No work for you for awhile."

"I can manage it, Jack. I'm –"

"Don't even tell me you're fine," Jack growled. "Daniel you were beaten into a coma. That's one of the definitions of 'not fine' last I checked."

Daniel thumped his head back into the pillow and he started to cough. His eyes widened as the pain of that cough hit him, and a nurse was next to him before Jack could blink twice. Jack sat in helpless distress while she soothed his cough and got him more analgesics. Daniel glanced over at him, eyes hazy, then he drifted back to sleep.

Fraiser had come in by that point and Jack looked up at her. "He's scared."

"Scared?"

"He hasn't remembered anything yet, has he?" She shook her head. "And he hasn't been told anything."

"No, it's better to see if he can remember on his own."

"Right, so he's scared. He doesn't really know what happened to him, and he can't ask, so he's trying to play this off like a typical injury."

"Dr. Jackson has typical injuries?" Axner walked into the room. "They said he was conscious."

"He was," Fraiser said. "He should wake up in a couple of hours. He still doesn't remember anything."

Axner nodded. "All right. I'll be back later."

"He doesn't remember what happened during the attack," Fraiser repeated.

"But he does remember the day before the attack, right?" Unwillingly, Fraiser nodded. "I'll be back later." Axner left, and Jack settled back in his chair.

"He's just going to upset Daniel," Fraiser said. "There's no point."

"He's just doing his job, doc," Jack said. "And maybe he'll ask the right questions. Daniel will be happier if he can remember what happened to him."

"He'd be happier knowing," Fraiser said. "I'm not so sure he'd be happier remembering."

Jack sighed. "Good point, but . . . he's the only witness we have."

"I know," she said. "And we need the information. I just . . . I don't know what it's going to do to him to talk about it."

"So long as we can find the bastards and make sure they never do it again, I'll be happy," Jack said. He opened his book and tried to immerse himself in it. Fraiser went about her business. Jack read page after page of his book without really taking it in He read the words, he understood them, but nothing was retained. He had to go back to the beginning of the chapter twice.

"Jack?"

He shut the book instantly and leaned forward. "Yeah, Daniel?"

"Why are we here and not on base?" he asked. He sounded a lot less sarcastic than he had earlier. He wasn't masking quite as well.

"Because you weren't well enough to be moved," Jack said. "I guess Fraiser still thinks you shouldn't be moved."

Daniel blinked at him. "Janet says I can't wear my glasses because there's no place to put them." Jack nodded. "It can't be that bad, can it?"

"Daniel, it looks like someone used your face for a punching bag. I'm frankly surprised you don't have any broken bones there. Or teeth."

Raising his bandaged right hand to his face, Daniel prodded his cheek experimentally, wincing. "I want to go home."

"I don't think so, Dannyboy," Jack said. "Maybe I can get one of those personal DVD players and bring in some movies, but you have to stay here for awhile."

Daniel grimaced, but he didn't say anything. He pushed the button on the remote and turned the TV on. Jack helped him find something worth watching and then tried to pretend he was reading again. After several minutes, Daniel spoke again. "Why haven't the cops been here?"

"They have. You were still in the coma the first time, and the second time was about two or three hours ago, right after you fell asleep."

"So, there are cops looking into this?" Daniel asked.

"Of course there are, Daniel. What did you think?"

"I wasn't sure. I . . . I really don't know what happened, and I thought it might have been . . . more complicated than the cops can handle."

Jack bit his lip. "Not that we know of," he said, and a tenseness seemed to go out of Daniel's shoulders. "Actually, I expect Lt. Axner back some time later today. You feel up to talking to him?"

"Sure, I guess."

Daniel didn't say much after that, just stared at the screen. Since his attention didn't waver during the commercials, Jack had a feeling he wasn't really paying attention, but that was fair enough. Jack was reading the same pages over and over again. Nurses and doctors came in regularly and checked Daniel's machines and his person. Fraiser was in and out, and Daniel spoke quietly to her, not reissuing his demand for coffee.

Around six in the evening, Axner showed up again, this time with Major Evans. Daniel had napped for awhile but he was awake again. When Fraiser came in, lips pursed tightly, bringing the police lieutenant and his faithful shadow, Jack looked to see how Daniel seemed. He seemed interested, curious, but slightly shuttered. It was the best Jack felt they could expect.

"Daniel, this is Lt. Axner of the CSPD," Fraiser said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Janet, you know that," Daniel said with a mischievous grin. The light that danced in his eyes was a shadow of what was usual, but it was enough to bring a smile to Fraiser's face.

"All right," she said. "You keep that button handy if you need anything."

Axner looked over at Jack. "Colonel, can you leave Major Evans and I alone with Dr. Jackson? And find someone else to sit with him afterwards, because I'll need to talk with you then."

Jack didn't like this idea. He knew it was probably standard practice, and that Major Evans' presence should be sufficient for secrecy and security issues, but he didn't want to leave Daniel's side. Fraiser cleared her throat, and Jack realized he'd been sitting like a dummy.

"Jack, go away," Daniel said, his voice weakly amused. "You've been here for hours."

Jack rose. "Fine, I see how you are," he said, giving Daniel a snarky grin. "I'll be back after awhile."

"Thrilling," Daniel said, lips twitching.

Jack snorted. "See you later."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Daniel watched Jack leave and looked over at the police officer. He was a tall, skinny guy with red hair. "Lt. Axner?" he asked. "Have a seat." For a moment it looked like Axner was about to say he'd stand, but then he walked over and sat down. Daniel nodded at Dave Evans, who was undoubtedly there to make sure that Axner didn't learn anything he shouldn't. "What can I do for you?"

"Walk me through what you did on Wednesday," Axner said promptly.

Daniel thought for a moment. His head was fogged up from the pain meds. "I went to work in the morning. It was a pretty normal day." He glanced over at Axner. "I can't tell you much about what I do, you know."

"I know," Axner said, and he seemed a little perturbed by that fact. "Just tell me what you can. Did anything unusual happen?"

Daniel shook his head. He really felt like crap. His head ached, his body felt leaden and heavy. "Nothing unusual. Just the typical round of translations and meetings. I got an e-mail from Tom Bartoli saying he'd gotten –" He broke off. "The books. Where are the books?"

"We have them, Dr. Jackson," Axner said.

"Were they damaged?" Daniel demanded. He saw Dave's mouth twitch with amusement, but he needed to know.

"They're fine, Dr. Jackson. Nothing happened to the books."

"Oh, good." Daniel moistened his lips. "Sorry, that may seem pretty paltry, but one of them is rare. I've had six different book search services looking for it for over a year. Tom finally got it in, so I left work early and went to pick it up."

"It's that important?"

Daniel nodded, then winced when the movement cause a brief surge in pain. "I can't really explain why, but it is."

"So, what time did you leave work?" Axner asked.

"Around five," Daniel said.

"That's early? What's your typical schedule?"

Daniel explained his work schedule, and watched Axner come to the same conclusion Jack had a long time ago. Daniel was a workaholic. Then they got back to the events of the day in question. "I got to Bartoli's around quarter to six. He told me he'd had a couple of shipments recently that included books I might find interesting, and I went to see what he had."

"And?"

"And . . ." Daniel furrowed his brow. It was startlingly painful. "I found some interesting stuff. I . . . I looked through the shelves and got kind of absorbed. I didn't even notice when the store closed." He shook his head. "I just looked up around ten and realized that it was well past closing."

"He says he spoke to you to let you know that he was closing," Axner said neutrally. "You don't recall that?"

Daniel shook his head. "It's entirely possible that he did. When I get engrossed like that, it often takes someone actually touching my shoulder or something to get my attention. Ask Sam or Jack."

"Sam would be Major Carter, and Jack would be Colonel O'Neill?" Axner asked.

"Yeah," Daniel said.

"What happened then?"

"I jotted down some notes . . ." He looked up at Axner. "Did you find those? Were they in the bag?"

"Yes, they were there."

"You haven't kept them as evidence or anything, have you?" Daniel asked urgently. "They need to get back to the mountain."

"We kept the originals. Copies have been sent with Major Evans."

Daniel glanced over at Evans, who nodded reassuringly. "What about the books, did you keep them?"

"We have them, Dr. Jackson, I told you. Now, what happened –"

"The notes will be useless without the books, and if I can't get back to work, Robert's going to have to get . . ." He blinked, realizing that he couldn't explain himself to Axner. Turning to Evans, he said, "Robert needs to finish what I started, Dave. It's important. I think . . . I think . . ." He shook his head. "I can't explain it now, but Robert will need those books."

"We'll see what we can do, Dr. Jackson," Axner said. "But right now, I need to know what happened Wednesday night."

"Dave?" Daniel asked, ignoring the police lieutenant and gazing urgently at Evans.

"Don't worry, Daniel, if we have to bring Dr. Rothman down to the police station to read them, we'll make sure he gets access."

"Dr. Jackson, we really need to talk about Wednesday night," Axner said.

"I'm sorry, this is more important," Daniel said. "Dave, you need to get those books to Robert. He'll know what they're for. We talked about it on Tuesday, if he's not sure, have him call me. I have a phone in here, right?"

"You do, Daniel," Evans said, drawing his brows together. "This is that important? Why haven't you said anything till now?"

"It's vital," Daniel said. "And I didn't remember until I started thinking about what I did at Bartoli's."

"Before tomorrow morning, Rothman will have those books," Evans said. "Is that good enough?" Daniel subsided, moderately satisfied. Evans turned to Axner. "I think we can go on."

"Good," Axner said irritably. "I don't understand what could possibly be more important than finding –"

"It's classified," Daniel said, cutting him off. "I want you to catch them as much as you do, but there are priorities, and my work is high priority."

"Them?" Axner asked, back to the neutral tone.

"Yeah." Daniel's eyes widened. "There were two of them. One came from . . . from behind."

"Okay. Go on."

Daniel shook his head. "I don't . . . I'm not sure."

"Start from where you left off. You noticed it was around ten, you stopped looking for books and made some notes. What then?"

Daniel blinked. "I went down to the front. Tom was on his computer. He came to the register and we talked for awhile. I paid for the books, and we talked for a little while more."

"So what time was it when you left, do you suppose?"

"No idea," Daniel said. "I was just thinking that I needed to get home. I had a meeting on Thursday at nine, and I needed all the rest I could get. Tom unlocked the door to let me out, and then locked up behind me. I went down the street." Daniel let out sigh and shook his head. It was bizarre not being able to remember clearly. He hated the fuzzy feeling in his brain.

"Did you see anything unusual?"

"Not so much. It was late, and it was cloudy. I couldn't see any stars." He leaned his head back on the pillow. "I turned the corner into the alley."

"Did the alley seem normal?"

Daniel nodded carefully. "The alley was dark, but the light was on in the parking lot."

"Was there anyone on the street?"

Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think. "Not on the street, but when I was halfway down the alley someone came in. I looked when I heard footsteps."

"What did this person look like?"

Eyes still closed, Daniel called the image to mind. "Blue sweats, white sneakers, black gym bag." He grimaced. "Hair was dark, face was in shadow. Most of the light was coming from behind me or from behind him, so it was hard to see."

"Did he speak?"

Daniel opened his eyes and shook his head. "No. I just figured he'd parked in the bookstore lot and kept going."

"Then what?"

Daniel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I . . . I walked down the alley, thinking about how much money I'd just spent and what I could use the books for. The parking lot light . . . it went out suddenly. I figured it had just blown, it's only a single bulb. I was pulling my keys out of my pocket, trying to get the light that's attached to my keychain . . ." He shook his head. "I don't . . ."

"It's okay," Axner said. "You're doing fine. Don't push yourself too hard."

"No . . . there's . . . the guy behind me. I heard his footsteps get faster and I knew I was . . . I knew something was wrong."

"Okay. Then what?"

"It was dark. I couldn't see anything." Axner evidently sensed that Daniel wasn't done because he didn't break into the longish pause. "But there was . . . you know how darkness isn't really black?" Axner nodded. "There was something moving in front of me that was black, and I could almost see it, more a shadow than anything, but I got rid of the books and tried to fight." He glanced over at the policeman. "Did the key thing work? I mean, I punched, but I wasn't sure that I didn't do more damage to myself than to them."

"We have blood from both your attackers, Dr. Jackson, on part of your keychain."

"Great," Daniel said, mildly revolted. "At least I didn't go down without affecting them at all."

"What else?"

"That's it. We fought. They won. That's it." He blinked. "There was . . . I smelled cigar smoke." He nodded and winced again at the pain. "Not cigarette smoke, cigar."

"Fresh?"

"No, stale. On someone's breath. And liquor. I smelled stale liquor."

"On his breath?"

"No, there was no alcohol on his breath." Daniel blinked, thinking. "It was on his clothes."

"Can you tell me which one? The guy in front or behind?"

"In front," Daniel said, and Axner nodded. "I remember a blinding slam against the back of my head and then nothing."

Axner wrote for a moment, then he looked up. "Neither man spoke?"

"No," Daniel said. "They were completely silent except for grunts. Not even 'ow,' or cursing when I hit them." He swallowed. "That's actually pretty creepy." He shook his head. "I don't understand. They didn't take the books, so what did they want?"

"They took your wallet and your car, Dr. Jackson."

"They didn't need to beat me unconscious to do that," Daniel said. "What . . ." He looked up at Evans. "Dave, do . . . do we have . . ."

"Nothing, Daniel," Evans said.

"Do you have any enemies, Dr. Jackson?" Axner asked.

"Enemies?" Daniel repeated, thinking of Apophis and Maybourne, neither of whom he could mention. An alien warlord and a military officer in good standing . . . he sure could choose them. He considered his words carefully, glancing up at Evans. "The program I work for is somewhat controversial among other military agencies, and there are those who have targeted me for whatever reason . . ." He shrugged and it made him hiss. His neck was really sore.

"Whatever reason?" Axner repeated.

"He's sort of the heart of the program," Evans said. "Without him the program wouldn't exist, and it certainly wouldn't exist in its current structure." Daniel turned his head and stared at him.

"I see," Axner said, but his tone suggested otherwise. "An anthropologist, archeologist, linguist is the heart of a military program?"

"I wouldn't say I was the heart," Daniel protested. "In any case, I think I've been targeted because I'm the highest ranked person who hasn't had years of specialized combat training."

"I see." This time he sounded like he bought it. That motive evidently made sense to him. Daniel sighed. "So, that covers work. What about personal enemies? Do you have any of those?"

"As Jack would say, that would require me to have a life. I suppose there were a few people who were pretty angry with me years back in the academic community, but the last time I saw any of them, they laughed me off a podium. Academics kill in the defense of a theory. I'm not threatening any theories because nobody believes me."

"Just what is it that no one believes?"

Daniel glanced automatically over at Evans, who gave a slight shrug as if to remind him that it was public knowledge. "I believe, and have evidence, that the pyramids were built roughly ten thousand years before current academic thinking places them. I've also done a great deal of research on the cross pollination of cultures."

"But isn't there growing evidence supporting that?" Axner asked. "Why would that cause people to laugh you off a podium?"

"It was the pyramids being ten thousand years older than we thought thing," Daniel said. "People don't like the implications of that."

Axner's brows drew together, but he didn't reply to that. Instead he just looked down at his notes, then looked up again. "All right, that's all for now. I'll be available at any time if you think of anything else."

"Sure," Daniel said. "Thanks."

"Let me go get Dr. Fraiser," Evans said, and he stepped to the door of the ward, leaning out.

Axner leaned towards Daniel and spoke in a low voice. "Is there anything that you want to say now, while he can't hear you?"

Daniel blinked at him, feeling a little behind in the conversation. "No. Should there be?" Realization hit him abruptly and his jaw dropped. He took in a deep breath and spoke firmly. "I am confident that no one I'm working with did this to me. I trust them. I don't always agree with them, they don't always agree with me, but I trust them."

Evans stepped back into the room, and Axner shrugged. "Forgive me, Dr. Jackson, but people are usually confident that the people they know wouldn't hurt them."

"I'm not," Daniel replied, and Axner raised his eyebrows, seeming startled. Daniel took a deep breath and contemplated how to put what he was trying to say as simply as possible, so he wouldn't have to try to explain it twice. "I grew up in foster care, I went to high school at thirteen, college at sixteen, got my first bachelor's at eighteen and became a teacher's assistant in classes full of people older than me." Axner started nodding, comprehension dawning as the litany of Daniel's past rolled over him. "I don't trust easily. I trust the men and women I work with."

"I'll take that into consideration," Axner said, standing up. "All right, then, I hope you feel better soon."

"Me too," Daniel said. He was suddenly very tired. "Would you tell Janet what I told you? I think I'm going to go to sleep soon, and she needs to know."

"Sure, Dr. Jackson." Daniel blinked at him. He was doubling oddly, something that probably meant it was time for Daniel to close his eyes.

* * *

Jack fiddled with his cellular phone. It was off, but pacing was out of the question in this tiny space, and he didn't have anything else to fidget with. How long was Fraiser going to let Axner grill Daniel? It seemed to be taking hours. Carter sat beside him, a model of correct behavior, though the tension that poured off her belied her calm exterior.

The door to the ICU opened and Axner came out alone. "They asked me to send someone in to allow Major Evans to come out."

Jack started forward, but Axner shook his head. "I need to question you, colonel."

Carter glanced at Jack, who nodded, and she went inside. Jack crossed his arms. "What do you want to know?"

"I think we should find a more private location."

Evans came out. "I've arranged for us to use the quiet room," he said. "The door locks and we will be alone."

"Thank you, major," Jack said. "After you."

They got themselves situated in chairs that were typically used by people who were waiting to find out if their loved ones would make it through the night. Jack continued to fiddle with his cell phone in the absence of a better worry stone.

"All right," Axner said, pulling out his pad. "Let's start with your movements on Wednesday night."

Jack felt himself still every so slightly. He was a suspect? Or maybe Axner was just clearing everyone he could. "I worked until five, told Carter to go home, which she ignored as usual, and was pleasantly surprised to learn that Daniel had already left for the day." He grimaced. "I went home, watched some TV, had dinner and went to bed around ten."

"Can anyone corroborate your movements?"

"I'm afraid not," Jack said. "I was enjoying my evening, not constructing an alibi."

Axner stared at him for a second, then said, "Right." He made a few notes. "Okay, so, would you say that Dr. Jackson has any enemies within your organization?"

"Nope, Daniel's saved all our asses a few too many times for that to be likely," Jack said. Evans leaned forward, eyes wide, but then he sat back, apparently resigned.

"The archeologist has saved your asses?" Axner said. Jack nodded. The police lieutenant glanced over at Evans, who also nodded. "Tell me, what do I have to do to get clearance to hear the rest of this crap? Quite aside from the fact that it would make my job a lot easier, I might just die of curiosity."

"I can ask Hammond," Jack said.

"Would you do that?"

Jack gazed at him for a long moment. "You do know that this would put you on a permanent watch list, and that it would mean you'd have to get permission to leave the country."

Axner shrugged. "Whatever. I don't even have a passport."

"Yes, but how would your wife feel about that?"

"I'm not married."

Jack shrugged. "Okay, I'll ask. I don't promise anything."

They talked for a long while, Jack even going into the unclassified details of his last disagreement with Daniel. It was very weird to be telling someone half of a sentence, and he had a strong feeling that Axner found it weird to be hearing half a sentence. Frustrating too.

Finally, Axner sat back. "So, I figured I needed to keep to the bare minimum of questions with Dr. Jackson for the moment, and I'm finding his public records somewhat lacking. Can you tell me if he has any family?"

Jack blinked. "His parents died when he was eight, and he was an only child. Beyond that, I don't know. He's not a big talker." Jack snorted, deriding himself. "Strike that, he's not a big talker about himself. Otherwise he talks a mile a minute."

"So you don't know anything? Not who his foster parents were, how many foster homes he was in, whether there are any kids that he's still close to from that time in his life, any of the foster parents he's still in contact with . . ."

"Foster homes?" Jack repeated. "What foster homes?"

"He said he spent years in the foster care system, so . . ." Axner blinked. "You don't know this?"

"No, somehow he's never mentioned it." Jack grimaced. "Me and my friend are going to have a little chat when he's feeling better." Of course there was the fact that Daniel had never talked about any family besides his parents, and Jack knew he was an orphan. The obvious corollary should have occurred to him.

"How is this man in a classified program, but no one knows this?"

"We are aware of the fact, lieutenant," Evans said. Jack turned and stared at him, astonished. "It's in Dr. Jackson's juvenile records, which he requested we keep confidential. So far as I know, he is not in contact with anyone from his childhood, however, I've never discussed it with him. General Hammond may know."

"How do you know?" Jack demanded. "If the records are confidential?"

"I was one of the officers involved in running his background check, sir," Evans said. He turned back towards the police officer. "There's no sign that he's been in contact with anyone from his past prior to joining this command, except his wife's family."

"His wife's family?" Axner asked. "Didn't she die in some kind of hostage situation to do with his work? Is there any possibility –"

"There is literally no chance that Kasuf or Skaara is involved," Jack said. "First off, they adore Daniel, second . . . well, the second reason is classified, but I guarantee you, no one connected with Daniel's wife has anything to do with this."

"You can guarantee that?" Axner asked.

"Absolutely," Jack said.

Axner didn't look altogether satisfied, but he dropped it. "Who are his closest friends now?"

"Me, Carter and . . . a guy you're never going to meet. He's got a solid alibi, so it doesn't much matter."

"I'm tired of all these things I can't know."

"I know, but there's not much I can do about that," Jack said. "Let's see. Robert Rothman. Daniel doesn't get close with people much."

"He said something about not trusting easily," Axner said.

"General Hammond as well," Evans said. "He and Dr. Jackson have something of a paternal relationship, and Dr. Fraiser is also a good friend." Jack nodded, startled but not disagreeing. He probably wouldn't have thought of Hammond.

Axner nodded, making more notes. "Well, I think that's it for now. I guess I don't need to tell you to stick around?"

"You're going to see more of me than you want to," Jack replied.

"Somehow I'm sure of that," Axner said drily. "I'll be seeing you." He left the quiet room. Evans went with him and Jack stared at the door as it automatically swung closed.

Daniel had never told him anything about his past, and Jack had always just let it slide. After all, none of them really talked about their childhoods. Carter's mom had died when she was young, Teal'c's dad had been murdered by his 'false god,' and Daniel had lost both his parents at once in a freak accident. Somehow Jack had never thought that bringing up his idyllic childhood was a great idea. Fair or not, people with good childhoods didn't get to talk about them much.

Jack got up. He needed to check in with Hammond, and he needed another look at Daniel before he did that. He went into the ICU and found Daniel and Carter talking quietly. Daniel looked up at his appearance.

"Hey Jack. You going to chase Sam out like you chased out Feretti?"

"Nope," Jack said, and Carter looked surprised. "I need to go call the general. Any messages for him?"

"I don't think so, sir," Carter said.

"Nope," Daniel said. "See you later, Jack."

Jack headed out to his truck where he climbed inside and called the base with his cell phone. The conversation with Hammond was short and sweet and left Jack very frustrated. No, Axner couldn't have clearance. No, Jack couldn't see Daniel's confidential files. No, Hammond couldn't discuss any of the contents of Daniel's file with Jack. How many other secrets did Jack want Hammond to share with uncleared persons?

They'd also discussed Daniel's current condition, of course, and Jack's conversation with Axner. All in all it was one of those conversations that Jack would just as soon never have again. He wanted Daniel whole and well again, able to yell and make snarky comments, so that he could demand answers. Demanding answers of a man in a hospital bed who didn't have the use of one of his arms or real comfort in any part of his body seemed a little unfair.

Jack walked back into the ICU. Daniel was asleep again and Carter was looking worriedly at him. She had the mommy look on her face, and Jack didn't want to displace her. She had as much right as he did to sit with Daniel, and Daniel would appreciate her presence. He walked over to Fraiser. "I'm heading in to the base for awhile. I'll be back by about seven."

"Of course, colonel," she said, distracted by note taking. As he started to turn away, though, she looked up. "Promise me you're not going to bring him any work."

"Never," Jack said. "But I recommend shaking Carter down if she comes back after going to the mountain."

Janet chuckled. "I know the science twins well enough for that."

Jack nodded and went back to Daniel's ward. "Carter?"

"Yeah?" She started to stand up, but subsided back into the chair when he shook his head. "I'm going to the mountain to get some work done, and give Teal'c a heads up. I'll be back around seven. I'll make sure you have back up."

"Thanks, sir. I'll let Daniel know."

He glanced over at Daniel's mangled face and grimaced. "Thanks. See you both later."

* * *

The next few days dragged by and Jack had to juggle the Daniel-guard duty because he still wasn't ready to be moved. Telling Teal'c that he couldn't help was particularly fun, but Jack had reassured him that Daniel would certainly be transferred to the SGC soon. Then Daniel did get pneumonia, with the attendant fever, coughs and chills, which put paid to the idea of moving him for awhile longer. His occasional bursts of conversation ceased to have much coherence, and he spent most of his conscious time in a fevered haze. During Jack's hours beside him, Daniel raved frequently about Sha're and the Harcesis. Fortunately the word 'harcesis' meant nothing to the nurses and doctors.

Fraiser medicated him to prevent him from coughing too hard and hurting himself, and she was forced to intubate him to keep him breathing and to pull some of the guck out of his lungs. She went around the hospital wearing a serious expression, but she didn't look anxious. Jack found that somewhat comforting, but only somewhat. Fraiser had a stone face.

Jack sat with Daniel, listening to the sound of the ventilator, trying not to watch as the device caused Daniel's chest to expand and contract. The movements were jerky and unnatural, and he hated seeing Daniel looking so . . . empty of personality.

Still, he couldn't leave him, either.

Axner was getting precisely nowhere in his investigation. The car turned up in a used car lot in Laramie, Wyoming, clean as the proverbial whistle. The only fibers and fingerprints to be found belonged either to the car itself or the people on the lot. It hadn't even been test driven yet. No leads there. The people who sold the car to the lot didn't apparently exist, and the car lot wasn't known for inquiring too closely into title issues. The sellers had provided a faked up title that had passed the minimal inspection. In a burst of pure luck, it had been found when an off-duty cop went to the lot with his daughter to see a car she wanted to buy.

Jack's neighbors had been questioned regarding his movements and several other staff members had fallen under scrutiny, but it was pretty clear to Jack's mind that they didn't have anything firm on anyone in particular. Jack had heard about the interviews Axner had held with every member of the command who had been on Daniel-guard. Hammond, too, had been interviewed, and Fraiser had growled irritably about her conversation with the police lieutenant.

Jack didn't know what to think. One thing seemed certain, though. It had not been a casual mugging. There was something alarmingly personal in the sheer ferocity of the beating. He looked down at the contused face of his best friend. Who – on this planet – could hate Daniel that much?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Robert Makepeace walked into the crowded restaurant and looked around. He was a little early, so it didn't surprise him that his contact wasn't there yet. He shoved his way into the bar, but all the stools were taken. Getting a beer, he found a seat in one of the corners and settled down to wait.

It wasn't a particularly warm night, but the place was more packed than usual and the bar was stifling. Robert was glad to be by an open window. He leaned back in his chair, drinking. If his contact didn't show by half past eight, he'd head home. After all, he needed to be alert for his shift of Jackson-watching in the morning. Sitting in that little room for hours at a stretch was oddly exhausting and he couldn't afford to fall asleep.

Robert had trouble imagining why anyone would want to do such incredible damage to Dr. Jackson. The guy could be annoying, but he was one of the few truly decent people Robert had ever met in his life. It had to be random violence. There was no other logical explanation.

It was coming up on quarter after eight when a familiar voice made him sit up and look around for his contact. Then he realized that the voice was coming from outside the window, beyond a bank of bushes that blocked his view. Robert sat back and relaxed a little. He wasn't supposed to move until he heard Maybourne's name called by the hostess. Maybourne, however, seemed to be stuck outside on a phone call.

". . . not work out, I promise you," he said with emphasis. There was a pause, and Robert wondered what he was talking about, and to whom. "I know he's johnny-on-the-spot at the moment, but we don't want to . . ." Another pause, then a sharp laugh. "I don't think it's a good idea. We'd lose too much, and frankly, there's no certainty that we'd gain anything." Another longer pause while Makepeace listened, then the NID colonel cleared his throat. "Yes sir, I understand." A moment later, Robert heard footsteps on the path. A short time later, the hostess called for Maybourne, party of two.

Robert rose and wended his way to the lobby and joined Colonel Maybourne. They talked weather and sports until the waitress took their orders. Once she'd gone, Maybourne sat back. "So, you're not going out again for another two weeks, are you?" Robert shook his head. "Any chance you can get that moved up a bit?"

"Why? Is there some rush?"

"Newman seems to think so. Something about artificial gravity."

"I'm afraid not. Even if I could persuade Hammond to clear us, which isn't happening, the schedule is set. There would have to be a pretty compelling reason to change it."

"A reason could be arranged," Maybourne suggested.

Robert raised his eyebrows, a bit alarmed by this notion. "How urgent is this anti-grav device, really?"

Maybourne shrugged. "Some of the higher ups are putting the pressure on for results." The other man ate silently for a few minutes. "Still, it's probably a little . . . much to force the issue for this item."

Robert nodded, a little puzzled by Maybourne's volubility. Usually he was pretty much all business. Pressure from above he understood, but . . . "Has something changed, sir?" Robert asked.

"Not so much changed as intensified. The upper echelons want us to have the same productivity now even without our own Stargate." Robert grimaced and didn't reply. It sounded as if Maybourne was fishing for offers of further help, and he didn't have any to give. In an excessively casual voice, Maybourne said, "So, have you run into anyone at the base who you think would make a likely recruit?"

Robert shook his head. "I'm actually not in the best position to hear about that sort of thing," he said, sidestepping the question to avoid refusing outright. He found the idea of recruiting other men to go behind his CO's back a little distasteful. It was one thing to do it himself. He understood his own motives, knew they were the right ones. What he did for moral reasons, another man might do for kicks, and kicks could lead to other kinds of inexcusable malfeasance.

"You've still got that 'perfect marine' aura, do you?" Maybourne asked, and, nettled, Robert just gave him a sour look and kept eating. "We've got to get another man on the inside," the NID colonel went on. "For situations like this, if for no other reason. Then we could send him for the cache."

Robert contemplated a forkful of fettucine for a moment, then looked up. "In that case, don't you think it would be better if we couldn't ID each other?"

Maybourne's mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. "I see what you mean," he said, and Robert wasn't sure he like the implications in his tone. He ignored it, however and asked his companion what he thought of Cincinatti's chances in their next game. That was a sure bet to get Mayborne talking about something else.

When he was finally done eating, Robert pushed plate away. "So, tell me, you got any leads on who attacked Jackson?"

The question seemed to startle Maybourne, particularly after they'd just finished dissecting a series of football plays. The man went very still for a second, and his eyes widened slightly. He recovered himself quickly, going on so smoothly that Robert might not have noticed the reaction if he hadn't been paying attention. "I'm not involved in that investigation," he said with a shrug. "And I haven't heard anything yet. Why?"

Robert sighed. "I was just wondering. I have a six hour shift on Jackson-watch tomorrow morning, though the stated reason for the duty seems somewhat unnecessary under the current circumstances."

"How so?" Maybourne asked.

"Even Jackson couldn't force intelligible words past that tube." Maybourne blanched, apparently disturbed by the image. "I figure it's just O'Neill being paranoid. It can't have been anything more than a mugging. No one in the know would be stupid enough to attack one one man who can save all our asses if the Goa'uld come back."

"Not everyone sees him that way," Maybourne said, and for a moment it seemed like he was going to say something more but then he shook his head. "Well, I've got to go." He picked up the check and fished in his pocket for his wallet.

Robert dropped his napkin on the table and reached around to grab his jacket. Then what Maybourne said sunk in. "Wait, who doesn't see him that way?" Robert asked. "Sure, he can be really annoying, but without him this planet would have been destroyed at least twice that I'm aware of, and I know I don't know everything."

"There are those who think we'd have had fewer problems without him," Maybourne said, and Robert stared at him disbelievingly. "Well, we'd still have those Tollans if he hadn't interfered."

Robert laughed and shook his head. "Honestly, we'd just have wound up with them loose on earth, trying to figure out a way off the planet and causing havoc along the way."

"We'd have found a way to contain them," Maybourne said. "But that's neither here nor there," he added before Robert could reply. "I'll contact you when next I need to talk to you. Take good care of Dr. Jackson."

"I thought we didn't need him?" Robert asked dryly.

"I said there were those who thought that," Maybourne said. "I didn't say I agreed." With that he dropped cash on the table and left the dining room. Robert followed a moment later and they went their separate ways.

* * *

Daniel drifted toward consciousness vaguely aware that it had been days since his mind had been this clear. He blinked up at the ceiling. Dim memories of fever dreams chased about in his mind without connecting to anything and slowly faded. Voices came to his ear, but the words were simply sounds, baritone and alto, rising and falling with no particular rhythm. It was English, he thought, the shapes of the sounds were right, and the cadence of the utterances.

Other sounds impinged on him. Beeps, whirrings, soft footfalls on linoleum. He felt both lightheaded and leaden at once, and he ached. The ceiling was familiar, but he didn't know why. It wasn't the SGC, nor was it his bedroom at home, or even the spare room at Jack's place. Beeping there would make sense, though it would probably be a little less rhythmic. Video games weren't usually quite so monotonous.

". . . is hard no matter where you are," said the male voice, the sounds coalescing into words suddenly.

"I know, I just wish I could help her more." That was Janet, Daniel realized abruptly. If Janet was nearby and calm, he knew he was safe.

"Kids sometimes have to learn the hard way." Makepeace? Janet and Makepeace were talking about . . . whom? "And let's face it, the hard lessons are the ones you remember."

"That doesn't make it easier when she's crying and I can't fix it," Janet said, sounding frustrated. "And the cultural differences don't help at all. She seems completely acculturated most of the time, but every so often we find a blank spot that we've missed, and lately the blank spots seem to be coming up a lot."

"Of course they are, Fraiser," Makepeace said. "Adolescence is a time of transition, and cultures always have special rules about transitional times. She was only halfway there when she came to you, so her knowledge of her own rules are spotty at best, and she doesn't know ours because she didn't grow up with them all around her. All you can do is keep working with her, and try to keep your patience."

"I know."

Makepeace chuckled. "Just remember, she is trying to drive you nuts, but at this age, that's her job."

"That's great," Janet said, a little laugh in her voice. "That helps a lot."

Makepeace was sitting next to Daniel's bed. That stirred a memory in Daniel's mind. He grabbed it and started trying to unravel it. Slowly it came back. The ICU. The police officer. Axner. The attack by Bartoli's Books. The books . . .

Urgency filled him suddenly. He turned his head and tried to speak, but his voice came out a harsh croak, and his throat hurt like fire and gravel.

"Daniel!" Janet exclaimed. "Don't try to talk. The tube's only been out for a little while. You'll hurt yourself."

Tube? Daniel tried to figure out what she meant, then gave it up as a lost cause. There were more important things, and if he couldn't speak . . . his right arm wouldn't move right. He looked down and saw the cast. Hell. He took a deep, careful breath and tried to come up with a way to ask his question.

"You've had pneumonia, Daniel," Janet said, moving quickly to his side. "You're only just getting better, so I need you to rest, okay?" Daniel blinked at her. "We don't want a relapse."

Daniel shook his head, and Janet's brow puckered. He held up one finger of his left hand, and raised his eyebrows. It appeared he'd been sick for some time, because there was less pain there than he remembered from the last time he'd moved his face.

"What Daniel?" she asked. Still not sure how to get his question across, Daniel bit his lip. Janet leaned close and touched his forehead. "Whatever it is will keep," she said with a smile. "Just . . ." He caught her hand and shook his head again. "Daniel –"

"What is it you want, Jackson?" Makepeace asked, and Daniel turned to look at him, heart sinking. If only Jack was here. "You've got a question?" the marine asked, and Daniel nodded. "About your condition?" Daniel shook his head. "About the attack?" Daniel shook his head again. "About work?" Daniel nodded. Okay, maybe he didn't need Jack. "Fraiser, that's about as far as I can go," Makepeace said suddenly, turning to Janet. "Do you know if he had anything he was worried about?"

Janet narrowed her eyes. "I'm . . ." She looked at Daniel. "Is this about those books?" Daniel nodded fervently, then discovered that he wasn't as recovered as he'd thought he was as the world spun a bit. "I told you that you needed to rest," she scolded. "General Hammond liberated the books the day after Axner questioned you." Daniel relaxed against the pillows, nodding. "Now will you rest?"

He honestly wasn't sure he had a choice. Exhaustion was stealing away any vestige of concentration he had left. He blinked blearily at her and gave her a weak smile, then drifted back to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Once Daniel recovered from his bout with pneumonia, the worst seemed to be over. Or at least he started bitching again about being unable to work, about not being given coffee, about being watched by a group of testosterone-laden mother hens. Jack was relieved to see it. He didn't say anything, but he watched Daniel grouse at Fraiser with pleasure.

Days passed, and finally Fraiser came in with the attending physician, who happened to be Dr. Patterson again today. Jack was sitting with Daniel, playing chess, so Patterson walked around to Daniel's other side and started looking at the monitors and other exciting medical machinery.

Daniel raised his eyebrows. He'd argued for and gotten his glasses back, so he looked much more himself despite the technicolor bruises. "So, Janet, anything new?"

"Actually, I'm hoping to take you back to the SGC today," she said cheerily. "I've asked Dr. Patterson for a second opinion on moving you."

"You know my opinion already," Daniel replied sardonically.

"And you're certainly not ready to go home," she snapped.

"No, I'd say not," Patterson said, raising his eyebrows incredulously. "Unless you've got IV drips and someone to monitor your medication."

Daniel grimaced. "Janet, I'd really like to be someplace with windows."

She sighed and gave him a sympathetic smile. "As soon as I can release you, I will, Daniel, you know that." She patted his foot and he glowered at her ungratefully. Jack was just as glad Daniel hadn't tried to pull him into it. When Daniel and Fraiser pulled at him from both sides, things got really uncomfortable.

After a little more contemplation of the monitors, Patterson nodded. "I agree, Dr. Fraiser," Patterson said. "He's ready to be moved, so long as you have a facility that's up to the level of care he needs."

"Oh, we have that," Fraiser said firmly. "I'll send for an ambulance."

"If you're in that much of a hurry, we have plenty of –"

"Your drivers don't have clearance," Fraiser said, shrugging.

They moved away, still discussing logistics and Jack leaned down. "Once you're off the drip, maybe she'll let you come stay at my place," he suggested.

"Maybe we should just turn your spare bedroom into a medical facility," Daniel said dryly. "Then it wouldn't matter."

Jack snorted. "It's not big enough, but I suppose I could build on . . . the Jack O'Neill Home for Battered Archeologists."

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "You keep that up and it will be the Jack O'Neill Memorial Home for Battered Archeologists. I'm not the only one of us who gets hurt on a regular basis."

"Now that's hitting below the belt," Jack said. "Besides, so far as we can tell, this isn't work related."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Stop getting my patient riled up," Fraiser said. "All right, colonel, please get out of my way so I can prep Daniel for travel."

"What kind of prep could you possibly need?" Jack demanded. "He's just going to be riding in an ambulance."

Fraiser hurried him out nonetheless, and he spent the time calling Carter and Teal'c to let them know that Daniel would be coming to the mountain. It would be a distinct relief to get Teal'c off his back.

* * *

After seeing Daniel ensconced in the infirmary, Jack left him to his extensive stream of well wishers and returned to his own job. Mindful that they still didn't know who had attacked Daniel or if the attack had been ordered by someone somewhere, Jack and Hammond had mounted a more discreet guard detail in the infirmary. Point man, naturally enough, was Teal'c. After all, he'd been unable to visit Daniel in the hospital so no one would be very surprised by his constant attendance now that he could visit. A couple of other trusted officers would spell him, and Carter had suggested Rothman and Balinsky as additions to the detail. Jack knew they could be trusted, and on base they didn't have to provide someone who could overpower an attacker, just someone they could trust to hit an alarm button.

Back in his office, he reviewed his accumulated e-mails with irritation. Why couldn't people have more sense? Hammond had gotten someone to deal with all the important issues, which left him with a boatload of minor peccadilloes and the idiots responsible for them. Given the median IQ at the SGC, it occasionally astonished him just how many idiots they had anyway.

Roughly fifty percent of the e-mails required nothing more complicated on his part than an e-mail to the idiot's supervisor, followed by placing the reporting e-mail in a folder where his assistant could log it and whatever else he did so that trends and recidivism could be tracked. Maybe another ten percent were his serial complainers. They got reviewed for possible seriousness of the current complaint. If the complaint was unwarranted, he moved the e-mail to a different folder where they, too, were logged and tracked. If the complaint was warranted, he dealt with it and then filed copies of the e-mail in both folders. Jack sighed. Serial complainers were a major burr up his butt. Anyone who could complain that much clearly didn't have enough to do.

He was just starting to look into the remaining forty percent when Msgt. Tennyson walked in, carrying several file folders. Jack raised his eyebrows in polite inquiry, though he found the sergeant's arrival a bit alarming in the "more work" direction.

"Welcome back, sir," he said. "How is Dr. Jackson?"

Jack shrugged. "Very uncomfortable," he said. Tennyson was the general assistant for the various department heads and was, in fact, the fellow who was in charge of logging and tracking Jack's e-mails. Since he rarely actually saw Tennyson in the flesh, his sudden appearance could only portend bad things. "What can I do for you, sergeant?"

"Sir, you asked me to keep you apprised if I found any patterns in the complaints I log for you?" Tennyson paused in apparent expectation of a response. A nod seemed to satisfy him. "Well, I've found one, and I don't think you're going to like it."

Jack grimaced, seeing his hopes for an evening spent tormenting a helpless Daniel fade in the face of unpleasant reality. "Shoot."

Tennyson held out a sheet of paper on which there were charts and graphs. "This is a graphical representation of complaints from and about the records department."

"All right."

"As you can see, sir, there is one department that Records complains about more frequently than the others, and the same department generates the most complaints against Records." For a moment the bar graphs and pie charts were just collections of colored shapes, but then the meaning sank in. He pursed his lips irritably. Tennyson was right. He didn't like it. "I've brought you all the complaints for the last six months." The sergeant held out the files and Jack took them with a grimace.

"Thanks, sergeant," Jack said. "Care to summarize them for me?"

Tennyson pursed his lips. "Major Tolliver of Records claims that the anthropology department loses records and misdirects the files on a regular basis. The members of the anthropology department claim that the problem lies with Records."

"Daniel?" Jack asked.

"That's the interesting thing, Dr. Jackson has made no complaints, but some of Tolliver's more recent complaints specify that Dr. Jackson hasn't done enough to resolve the problem. One of those came in today."

"Today?" Jack flipped open the file and glanced at the top.

"It's the second one down, sir," Tennyson said.

Jack closed the top file and looked into the second one. He scanned the top e-mail and frowned. All very polite, all couched in the right terms, but for crying out loud, the man had been in intensive care for weeks now. "This came today?" He blinked at the screen. "Why didn't I notice it?"

"Look at the 'to' line, sir," he said.

"Hammond?" Jack muttered. "He's not sending them to me?"

"He was, sir, but he started sending them to Hammond two months ago."

"And Hammond sends them to you?"

Tennyson nodded. "Today he asked me to come to you with it."

"Thank you, sergeant," Jack said, and Tennyson left. Sighing, Jack scanned through the complaints. A lot of the ones from the Anthropology department were from Robert Rothman, which didn't surprise him. He'd tagged both Rothman and Tolliver as serial complainers. He recalled sending a few e-mails on this subject awhile ago. However, given the personalities of the two men and the fact that both were squeaky wheels, he had undoubtedly put the continued complaints down to workplace friction.

It appeared that there were only two e-mails to Hammond on the matter, and both of them mentioned Daniel by name. There were a smattering of e-mails from Tolliver to Jack in between the two e-mails to Hammond, but none of them mentioned Daniel. All were couched in vague departmental terms.

When he felt he had a basic understanding of what he was looking at, he closed the files, picked them up and headed to Hammond's office. The general looked up from his own reams of paperwork when Jack knocked on the door.

"Come in, colonel," he said, gesturing towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. "I suspected I might have a visit from you."

Jack walked in and sat down. He looked down at the files in his lap. "What's your opinion, sir?"

Hammond pursed his lips. "The Tolliver issue?" Jack nodded. "Honestly, I'm concerned that the man would choose today of all days to register a complaint against Dr. Jackson. I presume he has contacted you?"

"He has, though he seems to have been careful to avoid citing Daniel as the source of the problem when contacting me."

Hammond's brows drew together. "Is that so?"

"It is," Jack replied. "This is the last six months worth of complaints. I can see why I missed it, but it can't go on."

"Which is why I sent it to you."

Jack grimaced. "Sir, what do you think of the fact that he hasn't brought his complaints about Daniel directly to me?"

Hammond raised his eyebrows. "Because you're always so receptive to complaints about Dr. Jackson," Hammond said with a wry look.

Jack stared at him. "Sir, are you suggesting that I play favorites with . . ."

"I am implying that you are naturally protective of your team members," Hammond said. "And those rumors of a relationship between you and Dr. Jackson continue to resurface from time to time."

"For crying out loud!" Jack exclaimed. "What do I have to do to stop those? Kick him? Grab female office's asses on a regular basis? What?"

Hammond sighed. "There's nothing you can do, Jack. All you can do is ignore it. Anything you try to scotch the rumors will simply call attention to them."

Jack glowered at the files. "Fine. I'm going to take care of this in my best objective manner."

Hammond started to look alarmed. "Jack?"

"Don't worry, sir, no one will even get bruises," he said with a nod and left the room.

He immediately headed to Rothman's office where he found the man absorbed deeply in a pile of old bones. Jack looked down at the tray. "Hip bone connects to the thigh bone," he said.

Rothman looked up, eyes abstracted. "I don't have any hip bones," he said. He scanned the tray again. "Or do you see . . ." His eyes focused and he saw who he was talking to. "Ha ha ha. Very funny, colonel. Is there something I can do to help you?"

Jack had armed himself with a clipboard and pen. "Actually, I've come to ask you about your complaints regarding Major Tolliver."

Rothman's eyes widened, then he stood up straight, putting his hands on his hips. "Well, it's about time!" he said truculently. "What are you going to do about it?"

Jack repressed an immediate surge of irritation at the man's manner. "I'm investigating. Tell me exactly what the problem is."

"Tolliver's a jackass," Rothman declared pithily.

Jack took a deep breath. "Could you be more specific?"

Rothman raised his eyebrows. "He's an incompetent jackass," he amplified.

And the man wondered why Jack hadn't gotten into this with him before . . . Jack sighed. "I need details. In what way is he incompetent?"

"He consistently misdirects files, so that files I request go to Daniel's office directed to Daniel or even to something like the Linguistics Department."

Jack blinked at him. "We don't have a linguistics department."

"I'm glad you know that!" Rothman exclaimed, clearly exasperated. "Tolliver apparently doesn't, and that's my point exactly. Also, if I go in and request a file at the same time as some military goon does, he gets his file in five minutes, but mine might take two days, no matter if mine is on an urgent project or not."

"I see."

"And if Daniel's gone, we all have to go to Daniel's office to find our files, because his idiot assistants just drop them all off there, and since they almost never fill out the transfer forms completely – or correctly for that matter – it might take three or four days after it's delivered here before the person who needs it gets it, and then he blames us because we have the files 'too long' and he doesn't know what happened to them. He once actually accused me to my face of going into the archives and pulling files myself without permission and without filling out paperwork. I handed him the inaccurately filled out transfer form that he'd signed, and he blustered about something unrelated, took the file and the form and left before I could stop him. I had to fill out a new request for the file, and I waited three days before I got it back."

Jack nodded. "Okay, if you think of any more details that might help me figure out what the problem is, please e-mail me." He started to leave, but thought of something else. "And if you get any more poorly filled out transfer forms, please make copies and send them to me."

Rothman let out an irritated sigh. "Pay Daniel's office a visit. We haven't had time with the crisis that came up last week to look through the files that aren't urgent. I'm sure you'll find lots of evidence there."

"Thanks," Jack said, and he followed Rothman's advice. When he got into Daniel's office, he stared in shock at the sheer size of the pile of files. He started looking at the transfer forms and was appalled to see plenty of evidence, as Rothman had said. None of the forms he looked at were filled out correctly, and four of them were directed to departments that didn't exist.

He'd been looking for several minutes when Balinsky came in behind him. He stopped when he saw Jack. "Is something wrong, sir?"

"How long has this been going on?" he asked, gesturing around at the files.

"What, sir?" Balinsky asked.

"He's actually looking into my complaints," Rothman said, coming around the corner and diving into the pile without a pause. "Can you believe it?"

"Why hasn't Daniel said anything to me?" Jack demanded.

Rothman paused in his sorting. "If you haven't noticed, colonel, Daniel's nice." Jack blinked at this succinct and accurate summation. "He doesn't like getting people in trouble, so he just tries to get along."

Balinsky shrugged. "I think he just figured that's the way things go on a military base."

Jack nodded grimly. He'd been afraid that was the case. When was he ever going to convince Daniel that he didn't have to take that kind of crap? Stupid, pointless hazing . . .

"Gentlemen, if you would please take the files you need, I'd appreciate it if you would then make yourselves scarce. I plan to have a little meeting in here." Both men nodded and hurriedly grabbed what they needed. As they left, Jack started sorting the files, not by subject or urgency, but by error. He stopped when he had a fair sampling, long before he'd finished going through the whole pile. By this point, anger was simmering. Was Daniel supposed to come off his recuperation to this mess? How often had Daniel already come off recuperation to similar messes?

Once he was ready, he called the Records Department and requested Major Tolliver's presence in Daniel's office immediately.

Tolliver arrived in five minutes, which, given the distance between the two offices, spoke of some alacrity. The major reported, then his eye seemed caught by the piles of files on the desk and table behind Jack. "There!" he exclaimed. "Do you see what I have to contend with, sir?" he asked, gesturing at the files.

Jack had been planning on asking him a few pointed questions to make him understand the error of his ways, but at this immediate launch into the offensive, his plans changed. He'd give the idiot as much rope as he wanted and see how thoroughly he hung himself. "Go on," he said, sitting down behind Daniel's desk.

"They request an inordinate number of files, and then they let them sit here for days, gathering dust." Jack merely raised his eyebrows and waited for him to go on. Tolliver walked right up to the piles and looked down at one. "Look here, this one's been here for two weeks, but it was requested with high urgency." He shook his head, looking irritated. "Don't worry, sir, I'll get these files back where they belong. When these civ boys figure out what they want and when they want it, they can send for them again."

Jack raised a hand as Tolliver started to take a pile, and the major paused. "As it happens, you've mistaken my reason for calling you here."

Tolliver put the files down, knitting his brows. "Sir?" he asked uncertainly.

"Would you pick up that top file and tell me what's wrong with the transfer form?"

Seeming a bit taken aback, Tolliver did as he was asked. "Well, the date is –"

"Not the date. The basic form. How it's filled out."

Tolliver blinked at him, then looked at the file. "This is how Dr. Jackson asked me to fill them out."

"Really?" Jack would have to check on that. "And did he ask you to deliver all the files to his office?"

"Yes sir," Tolliver replied with complete sincerity.

Jack could think of a half a dozen reasons why Daniel might ask Records to bring all the files to his office, starting with the issue of frequently misdirected files. "Fine, I'll look into that. In the meantime, please start filling out your transfer forms according to standard procedure. _If_ Dr. Jackson has a problem with it, I will make it right."

"Yes sir."

"Thank you, major," Jack said, and Tolliver got the message. With one look at the files, he left. Jack glanced back at the files himself and sighed. Then he headed for the infirmary. He had a feeling that Daniel was going to find some of his questions puzzling at best.

Daniel was lying in bed, a weird looking game board on the over bed table, playing with Teal'c. "Jack!" Daniel said with a smile. "How's your day going?"

Jack shrugged and commandeered a chair. "I actually need to ask you a few questions."

Daniel blinked at him. "About the attack?"

Jack shook his head. "Nope, about records, actually. Specifically, the Records Department."

Teal'c actually glowered, and Jack blinked uncertainly at him. What did Teal'c know that he didn't? He thought again. About this specific issue . . . there were lots of things Teal'c knew that he didn't.

"What about it?" Daniel asked, sounding puzzled.

"Okay," he said, glancing down at his clipboard. "Tell me, have you asked the Records Department to deliver all the files to your office?"

Daniel stared at him. "Why on earth would you ask that?"

"Don't worry about why, Daniel, I just need to know."

Daniel shrugged, and then bit his lip. "That was so not good," he gritted, and Jack could sympathize – broke ribs tended to take issue with that kind of movement. Wincing, he made a face at Jack. "Yes, I did. When I couldn't convince Tolliver that the problem of misdirected files lay on his end, I asked them to just get them all to me and I'd sort them out. It's not always the greatest solution. I'll bet there's a pile on my desk right now that rivals Mount Everest, but at least the guys just have to go to one place to find their files instead of turning the entire department upside down."

Jack nodded. He thought that also answered his second question, but he really needed a clearer answer. "So, did you ever tell him to fill out the forms in any specific way?"

Daniel snorted. "Did I ever . . . I asked him why he didn't fill out the forms according to his own memo, but he just said he thought my department had less standard requirements."

"Really? And what did you say?"

"Nothing. I think I shrugged. I was busy and didn't have a lot of time for nonsense."

Daniel avoiding confrontation. What a surprise. Now for the important question. "Why haven't you mentioned this issue to me?" he asked.

Daniel looked a bit startled. "I think calling it an 'issue' dignifies it too much, Jack. Tolliver just doesn't seem to care a whole lot about getting the forms filled out correctly for us. I've gone back and forth with him on it a few times, but it seemed pretty pointless after awhile."

"How so?"

Daniel's brows knit. "He never seemed very interested in working with me. I didn't see much point in breaking my head against a brick wall. So long as he's not actively obstructionist, and I can get my work done, I'm not going to raise a stink."

"Daniel! That doesn't make sense!"

"And if I raised a stink, there's a good chance he would get obstructionist."

"If you thought that, you should have said something."

Daniel shook his head. "Did you miss what I just said? If I'd said something, it might have caused the problem I was trying to avoid."

"Okay, anything else? More specifics?"

"Jack, I can manage it. Why is this coming up, anyway?"

Jack stood up. "Don't worry about it." He pursed his lips. "Where's Fraiser?"

"Her office, I think," Daniel said. "Jack, what is this about?"

Jack squeezed his shoulder and headed on to Fraiser's office. She looked up as he walked in, and he shut the door. "How soon are you going to release Daniel for work?"

Fraiser stared up at him, jaw dropped. "Are you seriously asking me to . . . what on earth are you asking that for?"

Jack shrugged. "I have my reasons, and no, I'm not trying to get you to release him for work soon. I'm more likely to ask you to keep him off duty longer. I just need to know."

Still seeming dubious, she pursed her lips. "It will be a week or two before he comes off the IVs, colonel. After that, two weeks additional at least."

Jack nodded. "So, I have some time. That's good to know."

"Time for what?"

"To deal with a problem that's arisen." Jack shook his head. "Thanks, Fraiser. Keep me apprised of his condition, could you?"

"Of course, colonel," she said, looking puzzled.

Jack was almost all the way to the elevator when Teal'c caught up with him. "O'Neill, I have a concern."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "What's that?"

"Nyan has told me that he feels that Major Tolliver does not treat the archeologists with sufficient respect."

Jack had to suppress a surge of irritation. "And why haven't I heard this before?"

"Nyan was not certain and did not wish to make billows."

Billows? Jack wrinkled his brow. "Make waves?"

"Indeed."

Jack nodded. "Okay. Thanks. I'll get back to you." Teal'c gave him one of his solemn bows and turned to go back to Daniel. Jack glowered at the elevator doors. Unfortunately, he could see how Tolliver could claim to believe – or even actually believe – what he'd told Jack. He headed back to his office and started making notes on what he'd learned.

He'd been at it for about forty minutes when his phone rang. "O'Neill."

"Colonel, can you tell me why the hell all the files are gone from Daniel's office?" Rothman sounded livid. "I went looking for one I knew was in there, something just came up as urgent when SG-3 came in and I went to grab the file and it's gone. They're all gone. Ones that were open on Daniel's desk – waiting for him to come back – they're gone."

"I didn't give any such order," Jack replied. "Okay, I don't know if you have that ironic memory that Daniel has, but –"

"Ironic?" Rothman repeated. "Yes, colonel, I have an ironic memory, and I'm sure this little moment is going to be added to it."

Jack blinked at the concrete wall above his desk. "No, I mean where you remember everything you see. If I'm going to ask for the files back, I'll need a list of all of them."

There was silence at the other end, then Rothman cleared his throat. "Eidetic memory," he said slowly. "Yeah, I can do that. I'll have it for you in an hour."

"Good."

Within minutes, Jack stepped into the Records Department and walked straight back into the archive room. Amazingly enough, he found Tolliver standing there with his assistants and a huge stack of files. "Major, what are these files doing here?" Jack asked.

Tolliver seemed floored by the question. "I . . . sir, I was just . . ."

"Getting the files back to Dr. Jackson's office?" Jack finished for him. "I think that would be a good idea. I'll have Dr. Rothman check them to make sure they're all back, and he'll get you the list of others that need to be returned."

"Sir, you saw that most of them weren't being used. There's no sense in leaving them gathering dust in . . ."

"It's better that they gather dust here?" Jack demanded. "If I have to make it a direct order, I will." Tolliver straightened, turning into a stuffed soldier. "I'll check with Rothman in two hours. If the files aren't back by then, you and I will have a more serious talk."

"Yes sir," Tolliver snapped.

"And, just a note, Dr. Jackson was injured two weeks ago, so files he requested as urgent have not ceased being urgent, but he may not be able to get to them for a little while. However, he'll need them immediately available when he returns to duty." Tolliver nodded, but Jack felt the need to be more specific. "Or if a crisis arises and we have to press him for some help in the meantime. Or any number of other possibilities. I shouldn't have to explain to you just how important Dr. Jackson's department is to this command. Do I have to?"

"No sir," Tolliver said.

"Good. Get on with it, major."

And now Jack had to find a longer term solution.

* * *

Daniel hated the infirmary. He hated being stuck in bed for extended periods of time. He was grateful that Janet was finally letting him get up to walk a bit, but he loathed how weak he felt and how quickly he had to lie back down. Jack and Sam came by every day, and Teal'c spent the better part of most days there. He took a few phone calls from Axner, but he had the feeling that the police didn't know where to go, that they had no real leads. After the first day, the overwhelming stream of visitors had trailed off, which made life a little quieter. Teal'c had gone off to take care of business, even Jaffa had to eliminate after all.

Daniel opened yet another get well card. He had piles of the damned things. They hadn't forwarded most of them to the ICU, there simply wasn't space, and he was taking his time about opening them. Janet wouldn't let him have a laptop or any work, so he had to keep something to do. The thrillers and spy novels Jack brought him only kept him occupied for so long, and no one seemed to think he could read anthropology journals without wanting to work. He couldn't seem to explain to them that it wouldn't make him want to work any more than he already did.

He gazed down at the card. This one had a teddy bear on the front, with a band aid on its ear and one arm in a sling. The motto read, "Get Well Bear-y Soon!" It looked like a child's card, which was odd. He flipped it open and stared in vague consternation. Eyes had been drawn in pen on the inside, many of them, on both sides of the card, and words were written where the signature would usually be placed. "Don't worry, Daniel, my eyes are on you all the time."

Returning from the bathroom, Teal'c leaned towards him, worry in his eyes. "Is something amiss?"

"Would you call Jack for me, please?" Daniel asked.

"What's he supposed to call me?" Jack asked cheerily as he came into the room.

Daniel looked up at him. "What's got you so happy?"

Jack shrugged. "What's got Teal'c looking so worried?" Wordlessly, Daniel closed the card and handed it to Jack. He looked at the front and said, "Cassie?"

"I hope not. Look inside."

Jack opened it and his eyes widened. Then he whistled. "Who the hell is this from?"

"I don't know," Daniel said. "But is it as creepy as I think it is?"

"It's creepy," Jack replied. "Shit, I'm going to have to give this to Axner, aren't I?"

"Axner?" Daniel exclaimed. "Why would you need to give _him _my creepy get well card?"

"This is seriously odd, Daniel," Jack said. "And do I need to remind you that you just got beaten half to death?"

Daniel drew his brows together. "Thank you, Jack, that's just what I wanted to hear."

"It matters, Daniel."

"No kidding!" Daniel said. "I just don't see . . ." He took the card back. "It doesn't look like a threat."


End file.
